A Crown amongst Peasants
by Jaslyn
Summary: Elsa travels outside her Castle dressed as a commoner, seeking a chance to reconnect with the on-goings of her Kingdom. There, she uncovers a truth that will make her blood run cold. Elsanna. M for Incest, Smut, and Incestual Smut
1. Chapter 1

"I still think this is a bad idea," Elsa scowls, chucking her crown on the dresser and tying a checkered handkerchief over her hair. Her singular blonde braid had been undone, and tied into a pair of pigtails.

"Your majesty, if I may be so bold to reiterate, your Father did this on many occasions." Kai says, keeping his gaze lowered at the Queen's feet. Gone are her glittering ice slippers, replaced by a pair of humble clogs.

"He didn't tell anyone when he went out into the towns," Gerda quips as she ties a wooden cowbell on Elsa's plain milk-maiden's dress, "all his advisors would have to stay one step ahead all the time, since he knew right away what was going on in the Kingdom."

"It's not like he had ice powers capable of freezing over Arendelle. I don't know how I'm going to answer to the people if it happens again."

"You'll be fine, your majesty," Kai says, holding a pair of soiled leather gloves in his outstretched hands, "this will be good for everyone. All this seclusion has created a rift between the Palace and the People; we hope you can see it as a chance to reconnect with the Kingdom."

"How do I even know if this outfit is going to work?" Elsa sighs, staring at her reflection in the mirror. To her, all she sees are dark circles under her eyes and how plain her skin looks without makeup. To anyone else, the sight of a humble peasant girl immediately looks out-of-place in the regal setting of the Queen's chambers.

Gerda and Kai give each other a smirk, "may we suggest Your Majesty start with a visit to the palace stables?"

"Alright then, let's get this over and done with," Elsa says, pulling on the gloves. They fit tightly, and she wonders if it's a trickle of sweat running between her fingers – or a chill.

Elsa should be in her study now, sipping on an after-dinner tea and admiring the orange glow settling upon the North Mountain. But instead, she's wandering the Palace stables looking for a bucket and soaking in the stench of horse manure. Used to the silent, distant attention of handmaidens waiting on her – the sudden jab of a riding crop on her shoulders causes her to flinch. She whirls around and comes face to face with the stable master's imposing presence.

"Why're you still bummin' around at this hour? For fuck's sake, get the shovelling going in the pens! It's near sundown already!" he yells, and Elsa's blood runs cold at his voice.

_"Conceal, Conceal, Conceal, don't feel," _her brain whispers, and she looks down at the hay-strewn stable floor.

"Yes, sir," she mutters, and he leaves just as her gloves freeze over.

Gerda rushes in and bows before the Queen.

"Your Majesty, my humblest apologies. Kai and I thought it was a-"

"Save it," Elsa hisses and sticks out a frozen hand, "at least I know the disguise works."

"I found you a bucket, Your Highness," Gerda says, placing a damp wooden bucket by her clogs.

"Perfect!" Elsa smiles, swallowing her apprehension, "All that's left is for you to fetch my horse."

"It'd be more convincing if you walked," Gerda replies, "besides, they can recognize Palace horses by the saddles."

A lump forms in Elsa's throat as she curtseys and takes her leave from the stables. But an aching in her heart forces her to make one last request from Gerda.

"Could you do me a favour?" Elsa's voice drops to a whisper, "Please…look after Anna while I'm gone. I know it's just for a night, but I'm just so worried that she-"

"Of course!" she smiles, "we'll make sure she stays out of trouble."

With a heavy heart, Elsa leaves, but not before casting a disparaging look at the stable master on her way out.

* * *

The sound of lowing cattle gets louder as she trudges uphill to the livestock quarter of town. She's positive the disguise works; even beneath the dim glow of kerosene lamps, she doesn't catch anyone paying heed to the lone milkmaid making her way home from work. Her hands go cold when a group of young goat-herders point in her direction and giggle, but she keeps her head down and smiles back at the ground – confident that her beauty would appeal to anyone, whether she's the Queen or not.

She reaches the town centre with her shoulders aching from being jostled around by farmers, and her hands are warm for the first time in ages. _I could get used to this_, she thinks, sitting by the fountain and swinging her feet, _being concealed in the crowds_. Despite her distance from the palace, she can't help thinking about Anna; how she'd probably be running up and down the halls looking for her, and the lies Kai must be conjuring to explain her mysterious absence. Elsa stares at her leather-gloved hands, and tries to recall her laundry list of things to do.

The next two hours flurry by in a series of inspections. Elsa gags at the stench of half-completed sanitation works by the town limits, and smiles at the melody of children singing in the Orphanage. She resists the urge to interfere with soldiers harassing a beggar, and wonders if there's anything she could do about the harlots soliciting in the town square. The moon has risen over the North Mountain by the time she's done with her agenda, and she wanders around looking for a place to anonymously listen in on some Kingdom gossip.

With the bucket slung over her shoulder and the cowbell clattering by her hip; Elsa hunches over and strolls to the town pub, trying to keep the usual regal strut from showing in her paces – but not too much.

"Swineherd and Swillbucket Tavern," she mutters, peeking through the window at the glow of lanterns and the sound of raucous conversation, "good place to start."

The doorbell jingles as she nudges it open and tries not to let it show on her face when the stench of vomit-laced booze slams into her nostrils. A sigh of relief escapes her lips when she notices no one paying attention to her entrance, and she swallows back a cough from the cloud of tobacco smoke hanging in the air. There's an empty bench by the bar; more inviting than the table of rowdy, chortling farmers, or the group of overly made-up women chattering in the corner.

A burly man with fiery-red hair and blackened teeth appears behind the counter and grunts at Elsa.

"A glass of-" she starts, before clearing her throat and putting on a rural accent, "I mean, a pint of ale."

He sets out a wooden mug, brimming over with foamy ale, and a plate of brown food-like matter.

"What's that?" Elsa points, lifting the mug to her lips and taking a deep breath before sipping. She cringes as the taste of drain water floods her mouth, before the burn of alcohol washes it away.

"Fried taters and lardons," he snorts, sprinkling salt on the dish, "you gonna eat it or what? The pigs will sure-"

"No, I'd love some," she says, selecting the cleanest slice of potato and hoping the salt will neuter her palate. It doesn't however; all she tastes is cardboard and grease. Her attempts at concealing the taste fail, and a grimace spreads across her face.

The man guffaws, "You aren't from around here are you, miss?"

"Loftsbridge," Elsa mutters, taking a second sip of the Ale, which doesn't taste as bad as the first.

"Well, what's a young northern lass like you doing all the way here in Arendelle?"

"My father got called away to the Navy," Elsa says, trying to recall the rest of the cover story Kai made up for her, "we got no family left home, so he sent me to my uncle's farm up here."

"Interesting; thought foreigners wanted nothing to do with Arendelle after what happened."

"Oh, you mean Queen Elsa?" she says, trying to ignore the man's grimy fingers rummaging through her chips, "that was one cold winter huh?"

"It was awful to begin with, but most folk are glad it's over – and we're proud to have someone of her powers representing us in this part of the world."

Elsa refrains from sighing in relief, and searches her mind for another subtle question.

"Well, I'm sure there's a lot of catching up her Majesty has to do. I mean, no one's seen her for ages since-"

"Damn right!" he says, slamming his fist into the table, "She should do something about the water, I've had to ferment the ale for so much longer just to keep the taste from showing."

Elsa slowly lowers her mug, "you mean the water's unclean?"

"Yes! It's safer to drink Ale or boiled tea than water from the well."

"Oh," she mutters, "that's a pity." Elsa feels a chill go through her hands as the thought of those cheery voices in the orphanage having to put up with dirty water. _What have you been doing all this while, Elsa? Shutting yourself in while your people suffer? Some Queen you are. _

_Conceal, Conceal, Don't feel. _But her drink has already turned ice-cold from her frosty gloves.

"But, not all is grim," he chuckles, snapping Elsa out of her thoughts, "for once, we'll never have to worry about the Southern Isles taking advantage of us anymore."

Elsa tilts her head at the bartender, "Do we?"

"Of course! Have you not seen Queen Elsa's powers? That ought to strike terror into any Kingdom. In fact, most people are even suggesting that we do away with the military, since no one would dare invade Arendelle."

_Oh, that'll save us some tax dollars. Looks like this trip is turning out way better-_

Her thoughts are cut off by a roar of laughter as another group of milkmen make their way into the tavern. The bartender leaves to take their orders and Elsa is left sitting alone at the bar. Despite her earlier disgust at the Ale's taste, a peculiar malty-sweetness has left itself lingering on her tongue, and she feels a buzz spread across her cheeks. _Maybe drain-water Ale isn't so bad after all, _she thinks, looking at other wooden mugs on the customer's tables. She allows her gaze to wander from person to person, making up stories in her mind about families and jobs, hopes and dreams tucked behind their red faces. There's something _real_ about being surrounded by peasants. No one's putting on a veneer of politeness, or scheming to win favors from her. Everyone's just being who they are, enjoying drain-water Ale as though it were the best thing in their lives.

_Perhaps that's all the poor have to live for. _

The bartender returns from serving his customers and grunts at Elsa again, "so, how do you find the Folk of Arendelle, rougher than Loftsbridge, I might suppose?"

"They look for the most part an honest and hardworking bunch," she says, before motioning at the table of women, "except for that lot over there – they look too well-dressed to be working in the fields."

"They're whores," the man replies, and Elsa edges her head back in response, "what're you so shocked at? Don't they have whores in Loftsbridge?"

"No, I mean, yes they do! I just didn't think they'd be hanging out in a good tavern like this."

"Hasn't happened until a woman from Tasselmills came in a few days past and paid for their company. Odd, I suppose, but that's precisely what happened. She only likes blondes though, so all em' brown-haired harlots are still out on the streets."

"That's queer," Elsa mumbles, taking another long sip. She looks at the group of fair-haired prostitutes and notices a woman sitting in the corner with an arm draped over another's shoulders. A shawl covers her hair, and from the way she's slumping against her companion for the night, the Ale has likely gotten to her as well.

"Is that her?" Elsa tips her mug at the lady, "from Tasselmills you say?"

The man grunts in reply, and Elsa's thoughts begin to churn. She rubs her hands together, but it does nothing to stop the chill forming between her fingers. Just needing _something_ to distract herself, she fumbles through her purse and lays out coins for her drink, before excusing herself.

Luckily for her, the tavern's patrons are too boozed up to notice the mild drop in temperature forming as Elsa meanders her way between raucous shouts and gleeful singing erupting amongst the tables. She steels her gaze on the group of women, and readies a stack of gold coins between her fingers. Her stare intensifies at the two blondes sitting beside the woman in the shawl. Elsa's heart begins to pound, and it drowns out the sound of her clogs clattering against the floor.

"Excuse me," Elsa whispers to the first blonde, covering her mouth so that the frost on her breath can't be seen, "could you be so kind as to let me buy you and your friend out of this woman's company for tonight?"

The blonde stares into Elsa's eyes, and at the stack of gold held out in her outstretched palm. Her cheerful demeanor melts, and she mutters a curt, "Whatever," before snatching the gold and motioning at her friend to leave. In the absence of the blonde's shoulders, the woman slumps onto the table with a thump. Elsa takes off her gloves and pushes her up against the chair, causing the shawl to slip from her head.

Frost crackles from her fingertips as she twirls the solitary lock of blonde hair from amidst a tangle of red.

* * *

**A/N: Slightly AU, Anna had her hair restored after the end of ****_Frozen. _****(Leave a review if you didn't notice!)**


	2. Chapter 2

"You're coming back with me," Elsa hisses, sending specks of frost onto Anna's fringe, "right this instant!"

"Hmm? I like where this is going!" Anna slurs, before slumping into the crook of her arm.

"Stop fooling around!" she scowls. Elsa looks over her shoulder, before pressing an icy-cold hand onto Anna's cheek. The cold fails to stir her sister, and she recoils in horror when a tinge of frost skirts its way across her skin. Anna scratches away the frost on her cheek, and gazes at it with widened eyes. "Ice eh?" she slurs, rubbing the ice between her fingertips and watching it dissolve, "You're perfect!"

She tries to stand, but fails and lurches into Elsa's arms.

"Christ, would you take a look at yourself?"

"Stern and bossy much? I'm in luck today!"

With her eyes darting between the other patrons and her sister's half-opened eyes, Elsa yanks on her gloves before draping her sister's arm over her shoulder. Some of the patrons have begun rubbing their shoulders from the chill air, and she notices more than one pair of eyes staring in her direction. Despite the ice pressed up against her cheek from earlier, Anna's body remains warm against her own, and uncooperative.

"You and I are going to have a long talk about this when we get home!" Elsa scowls.

"I'd like that very much. It's been forever since-"

"I'm serious!" Elsa scowls against her hair.

"Ooh, that tickles!" Anna coos, clumsily rubbing away at the frost building up in her ears, "tonight keeps getting better and better eh? Why don't you make it purr-fect for me wouldcha, honey?"

In her frustration, Elsa forgets how strong of a grip her sister possesses, and Anna yanks her shoulders to face herself. She leans in, but her alcohol-laced breath forces Elsa to turn away, and Anna jams her lips up against her chin.

A squeal punctuates the chorus of singing peasants as Anna slips from her sister's gloves. Elsa gasps as she hauls her sister back up into her arms; the layer of frost lining her gloves has melted away into a glittering sheen of moisture, and she feels a blush spreading across her now-warm face.

"Y-you k-kissed me," Elsa sputters, rubbing the spot on her chin, "no one's ever-"

Anna points at her unmade up lips and giggles, "Of course I did, love. There's more where _that_ came from! But how about one from you instead?"

Elsa's furrowed brows and the grimace on her lips melt away in one long sigh, "Alright now, stop fooling around. Let's get you out of here."

The bartender winks at her as she half-drags and half-carries her sister out from amongst the chortling townsfolk, and Elsa forces a weak smile at him, just to keep the guise up. In the center of the bar shelf, next to her own coronation portrait, she catches a glimpse of the clock striking midnight.

"Wait!" Anna slurs, right before the Tavern door shuts behind her, "I forgot to-"

"We'll come to that later," Elsa scowls, jamming her up against the windowsill, "for now, would you care to explain to me exactly why you're in the middle of-"

"Oh gosh, save it!" Anna slurs, pushing Elsa's chin away and rummaging through her hair, "God, you're just like my sister!"

"I'm just like your – _wait, what_?"

"But that's _exactly_ why I'm so generous tonight," she giggles, reaching into her folds of her dress and producing a bag of coins, "and you're so willing to pretend-"

"What? I don't get it," Elsa says, and a bead of sweat runs down her forehead, "wait, that doesn't even matter. How are we supposed to get you home at this hour?"

"Who says I'm going home?" she slurs, and points at the back alley.

Elsa leaves her sister propped up against the window and stomps towards the sound of sloshing in the shadows. A pair of dark eyes lift from the watering trough to meet hers; she pulls away the blue cloth draped over the horse's saddle, revealing the crocus motif of the Arendelle Palace.

"A Palace horse!" Elsa shrieks at Anna, before looking over her shoulder and dropping her voice to a whisper, "You rode here on a _Palace horse?" _

Anna lurches forward and presses a finger on Elsa's lips, "Of course I did! You didn't expect me to ride here on a Palace _c__ow _did you?"

"Anna! Of all the pranks you've gotten up to; this one by _far_ takes the cake!"

"Who's _Anna_?" she slurs, "I don't know any Anna! Do you know an Anna?"

Elsa leads the Palace horse over to her sister, and brushes away the matted red hair covering her reddened cheeks.

"As a matter of fact, I do. And she's my sister."

"Then you're a _good _sister. Don't you ever forget that!"

Thankfully, Palace horses were bred for discipline; it takes an eternity of huffing and shoving, red faces and frosty hands, but Elsa eventually pulls Anna up on the Horse after a dozen attempts. The flustered dragging has left Anna sitting facing her sister. Despite her reservations, she decides it's better to leave her like this, rather than risk her falling off. With a tug of the reins, the horse thunders off across the town square and down the hill.

"You're outrageous, you know that? And I thought Hans was the _worst _you could've came up with!"

Anna mutters something into her ear, but it's impossible to hear her over the noise of thudding hooves.

"I just wish Mother and Father were around to say something about this!"

A pair of warm hands clutch at Elsa's dress. She knows it isn't for balance; despite the horse's heaving and the chill of the twilight breeze fluttering through their hair – Elsa feels Anna's lips shuddering against her shoulder.

"My parents are dead!" Anna cries out, and she presses her face into Elsa's chest, "And my sister… Do you have any idea what it's like to be alone all the time and chasing after someone who melts away into the shadows?"

A chill slices through Elsa's heart at her sister's words, and snowflakes peel from her hair fanning out in the breeze.

"Y-you, you did this because of her?"

For a reply, all she hears is the whimper of muffled sniveling, but the firm grip of Anna's arms clinging around her waist provides an answer. Elsa looks over her shoulder at the moonlit trail of ice glimmering beneath the horse's hooves, and tries not to remember the last time she held Anna like this.

_This is all your fault, _Elsa thinks, _you caused this to happen. _

Elsa shakes her head and tries to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

_What were you doing the past few nights when she snuck out of the Palace? Meetings? Drafting letters? Mulling over taxation formulae? You were so busy being a Queen you forgot how to be a Sister!_

With her heels digging into the horse's flank, she picks up the pace as Palace steeples loom into view. A tear escapes Elsa's eyelids; she tries to tell herself it's the wind brushing against her eyes. But with snow billowing around her, they freeze solid before she can decide what they really are.

* * *

She's glad the servants have long retired to their quarters for the night; it would be difficult explaining the sight of the Queen and Princess dressed in Peasant clothes, stumbling through the halls with cheap Ale on their breaths. The stairs to Anna's room present an insurmountable challenge for Elsa, and after much hauling and pulling, she resorts to conjuring an ice sled and dragging Anna up a snow slope. These would be easier overlooked by the staff in the morning.

With her lungs heaving from the exertion, Elsa's knees buckle right before she reaches Anna's bed, and she drops her snoring sister onto the sheets.

"I hope you're pretty _content_ with –" she starts, but the sight of Anna's disheveled hair splayed across her freckles causes her fists to unclench, and the temperature in the room rises by a bit. With a sigh, she unlaces Anna's riding boots and places them on the shoe rack – the only two articles of footwear neatly lined up amidst a clutter of heels and slippers.

"Why does she even _have_ a shoe rack if she doesn't _bother _putting her shoes on it?" Elsa mutters to herself. She contemplates stacking her sister's shoes onto the rack, but she looks over at the sight of the explosion Anna calls her room, and realizes it would take three servants _days _to clean up this mess. Knowing Anna, the room would be unraveled faster than anyone could tidy it anyway.

With moonlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains bathing the room's mess in a pale glow, Elsa steps before the mirror and cringes at the wrinkles in her dress left by Anna's fingers when she clutched at them on the ride home. Her breath catches in her throat as she runs her fingers over the creases, and she imagines they're still warm from her touch.

She struggles to remember the last time she stepped into her sister's room, and shudders when she realizes that _this is her first time. _It had always been Anna knocking on her door, Anna crawling into her bed when they were little, Anna leaving paper bags of Chocolate Éclairs and Danish pastries outside her room while she studied for tests.

_Since when did you listen? Since when did you care? _

Noticing the perceptible drop in the room's temperature, Elsa rushes to Anna's side and pulls the blankets over her sister as she trembles in her sleep. She decides to leave before the chill gets to her, but just as she passes by the door and gazes upon her sister one last time, a shadow in the corner of the room catches her attention. Her fingers feel around in the dark until they bunch up around thick fabric. With a tug of her wrist, a large plume of velvet falls from the wall and pools around her feet. With the glow from the window facing away from this section of the wall, she lights a lamp and runs the flickering flame along the bottom edge, noticing paints and palettes lined up nearly against an easel.

"I never knew you were into painting," she mutters. _But how much do you even know about your sister anyway? _

She lifts the lantern to her shoulders and recoils in shock when she comes face to face with…_herself. _

A larger than life portrait of the Queen graces the wall; Elsa's lips part as she passes the light across immense oil painting. There isn't a hint of royalty to be found anywhere on the canvas, Anna had painted her in one of her casual summer dresses, and her hair had been left undone, cascading over her shoulders in a stunning waterfall of gold. Her Crown is noticeably absent, and so are the usual trinkets adorning her body, save for a necklace Anna made for her sixteenth birthday. Every detail had been painstakingly touched in by Anna's hands: the crease of her lips as she smiles at something afar, the tilt of her posture as she leans on a fountain, and the curves of her figure replicated with breathtaking accuracy.

She takes a step back and sucks in a gasp as the lamp's light falls upon the painting in its entirety. Her feet shuffle back another step before she stubs her heel onto a chair – which had been placed facing the canvas.

_Is this what Anna meant when she said she started talking to the pictures on the wall? _

Elsa stares at the wall with widened eyes, taking in the painting, in all its glory – and the implications racing through her head. There're pictures of her in the throne room, in people's houses and merchant's offices all around the Kingdom – yes. But this one's different; this was painted with glowing adoration etched into its every brushstroke.

Without warning, the room plunges back into a moonlit darkness, and Elsa gasps when she sees the frozen-over lamp in her hands. She chucks the lamp onto the dresser and flees the room, hoping she makes it out before the sound of her sobbing wakes Anna up.


	3. Chapter 3

The throbbing pain in her head rouses Elsa from her sleep, but it takes a thumping from behind the door to force her eyes open.

_"Your Majesty!" _

She lifts her head from the pillow, still damp from where she had wept into the cashmere covers last night.

"...what?" she slurs and rubs her forehead. Accustomed to rising before dawn, sunlight streaming behind the curtains forces her eyelids shut again.

_Is it morning already? _She thinks, and compels herself to look for the time.

"That's a first," she mutters, widening her eyes at the clock ticking past seven.

_"Your Majesty!" _the knocking continues, _"you have a-" _

"Yes, yes! The meeting! Just give me a minute," she calls out to the door while conjuring an ice gown over her nightclothes, "get my, er, breakfast here, with two pots of coffee."

The memory of last night slams into her head and she clutches at her disheveled hair.

"Wait, wait! Send for Gerda too, and, and, the hairdresser!"

_"Certainly, your Majesty!" _

Her meal arrives within minutes, and she alternates between eating ham croissants and taking gulps of strong black coffee while having her hair done. The throbbing ache in her head is gone, but she can't shake the clutching sensation in her chest. With her gaze fixed on the door, the attending butler refrains from sighing every time she inadvertently freezes her coffee solid.

The throbbing in her heart ceases when Gerda rushes in and bows.

"Good morning your-"

"Gerda!" Elsa lurches from her chair and clutches her by the shoulders, "Have you seen Anna?"

"The Princess?"

"Yes! Have you seen her this morning?" Elsa asks, and yanks her hands away when frost blossoms across Gerda's lapels.

"I saw her walking to the library with her tutors," Gerda says, rubbing the frost from her neck, "she has a literature lesson this morning."

"She's up _this early_?"

"Yes, her Highness was dressed and seated in the dining hall waiting for breakfast before the kitchen was ready. May I be so bold as to remind your Majesty that you have a meeting with the interior ministerial-"

"Christ! Who sets these meetings so early in the morning?" Elsa scowls as she fumbles with her velvet gloves.

The servants look at each other, and return to keeping their heads bowed.

With snow springing from her footsteps, Elsa marches into the Royal meeting hall and neglects to wave off the ministers as they rise to greet her. She sits and mulls at the documents for a full minute before noticing the two rows of elderly statesmen staring at her.

"Um, you may be seated, gentlemen," she mutters and returns to staring at the stack of parchments lined up neatly for her consideration.

The servants bring out thick winter coats for the ministers, and they begin debating the merits of policy changes in Arendelle. Beneath the crisp daylight flooding through the windows, Elsa tries her best to focus on the bullet points of the agenda she set out for discussion today, but all she sees is the glow of her own portrait hanging in Anna's room, and her mind churns over everything it means.

By the time the towering mahogany clock strikes twelve, Elsa has lost count of the snowflakes she has doodled in the margins of her notes, and the ministers' heads are white with sleet. It's a blessing her mood is an open book; the statesmen have saved their power mongering for another day, knowing she lacks the spirits to listen to another round of their petty squabbling.

While signing on the meeting minutes, the distant melody of a church choir jogs her memory back to the visit from last night.

"I would like to schedule another meeting with the Mayor of Barnmeadow, the Department of Sanitation, and the Department of Water Resources," she announces.

The ministers stop rubbing their hands together and stare at her. The chill in the air lifts, and their eyes widen as a scribe takes down her request.

"And another one with the Chiefs of the Navy and Army, and the Department of Taxation and Finance," she continues, and thumps the royal seal on the documents to make her point.

They turn their gazes from the Queen and towards each other. With a flick of her wrist, Elsa dismisses the men; she doesn't wait for them to rise before turning on her ice slippers and bolting out the door.

Standing in the hallway, Kai pulls an overcoat over his shoulders and folds his arms at the sight of Elsa stomping towards him. He turns his face away just as a gust of chill air blasts into his face.

"Your Maj-"

"Please, Kai. P-please tell me where she is now," Elsa stammers, clasping and unclasping her gloved hands.

Kai raises his head and tears up at the frosty wind brushing against his eyes.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty. Who are you looking for?"

"_Anna!" _she yells, and jagged icicles erupt around her feet. Kai flinches backwards and lowers his head. .

"Her Highness is partaking her mid-day meal in the library. She is accompanied by the royal tutelage and Olaf the snowman."

She takes off before Kai finishes his sentence, crunching the icicles beneath her slippers.

Elsa hitches the gown around her ankles and sprints down the hallway. She's never ran this fast before, but she's unable to outrun the urgency of wanting to confront Anna over everything which happened last night. The imposing double doors of Arendelle's royal library loom into view faster than she can skid to a halt, and she pauses by the knob to catch her breath. _Compose yourself, woman, _her mind chides, _you look like a royal fucking joke. _Unable to separate the emotions surging through her heart, and just needing _something_ to do to prevent the frost from creeping into the library; Elsa presses her ear up against the door and holds her breath.

Behind the door, Anna's voice rings out in a melody of laughter and she hears Olaf giggling in response. The older sister within her tells her that she should barge in there now; blast open the doors with a gust of icy wind and demand to know what she was doing out in town last night. Her brows furrow as a multitude of questions hang from her lips:

_What were you thinking leaving the Castle in the middle of the night? Why were you out with Prostitutes? Who introduced you to them? Where the hell was Kristoff? Why is there a painting of me in your bedroom? Is there something you're feeling towards me that you don't want to talk about? _

And the most pressing question of them all: _Have I failed you as a sister? _

An icy cold slicing through her hand snaps her out of her thoughts and she gasps at the door handle frozen solid beneath her fingers. A confrontation would undoubtedly lead to an argument, Elsa knows that. A fear creeps up in her heart as she recalls the last argument they had, and the haunting image of Anna buckled over upon the floor, fainting away from the ice she had sent into her heart.

_"No," _she thinks, and the ice beneath her feet thaws, "_I can't let it happen again." _

She takes a step away from the door, and her heart clenches at the sound of Anna's voice animatedly discussing the difference between reindeer milk and cow's milk. _Conceal, Conceal, don't feel._ She turns and stares at the icy trail fading away as the shards of ice evaporate into specks of snow. The rational part of her mind tells her to run, hide behind the visage of her crown and bury herself in the architectural drawings of a new cargo complex she intended to examine today. But what's the point? She's only ever ran and hidden from her problems her whole life, and what has that brought her?

Pain and misery, worst of all – _not to herself_.

With her shoulders hunched over, Elsa slinks away to the palace's second floor, ignoring the servants taking an extra step back as they bow to greet her. She hates the distance people put between themselves and her, and the ugly icy trails zigzagging the palace spreading news of her mood among the palace staff like wildfire.

The library's second floor hosts an enclave of bound diplomatic letters from her parents' reign. When Elsa was young, she would lock herself away in there every time the frosty isolation of her room proved too much to bear. She'd lose herself in the regal atmosphere of the words, and she still knows the location of each volume by heart, despite a layer of dust coating them ever since she ascended the throne. But today, she seeks out the balcony, knowing it overlooks the central reading room where Anna has her lessons.

Elsa closes her eyes and forces out every trace of emotion within her in a well-rehearsed drill of numbing herself. A smile spreads across her lips as she edges open the door and warmth greets her face. _No frost, _she notes, looking at her fingers delicately poised on the brass handle, and allows herself the liberty of sneaking into her little sanctuary on the tips of her toes.

Anna's laughter echoes throughout the library's domed ceiling, and Elsa crawls to the edge on her hands and knees. She conceals herself behind the velvet drapes, and sighs in relief at the sight of Anna kneeling on the carpet playing with Olaf. All trace of the disheveled mess of a Princess she hauled back last night is gone, replaced by the cheery grin of a teenage girl as she tries different vegetables on Olaf's face. Anna's face glows beneath the glare of the skylights, and from the darkness of her hiding place, she can just about make out the freckles on her cheeks dancing with each giggle bubbling from her lips.

A warmth creeps up on Elsa's skin as she gazes upon Anna's red braids twirling around in a dance with Olaf. The perspiration beneath her gloves alarms her; she's forgotten the last time she felt this way, and she wonders if it has anything to do with the sight of effervescent joy radiating from her sister's face. She loves her sister, she knows that from the bottom of her heart, but there was never an instance where she's just appreciated her for being _Anna _– a beautiful woman who deserves every bit of affection withheld from her for so long.

Elsa sighs, and for the first time in her life, she questions if her sister's been feeling the same way towards her.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Confront her, don't confront her/Confront her, don't confront her," _Elsa mutters to herself repeatedly, sighing at her office table littered with torn lily petals. Ever the determined decision-maker, the nagging doubts over her dilemma take their toll on the Queen, and she slumps in the chair clutching at her forehead. The sight of a cheery and relaxed Anna in the library had done nothing to ease her worries of earlier, and she doesn't notice when Gerda rushes into the royal office without bowing.

_"She's having dinner," _Gerda whispers in Elsa's ears, and she bolts upright in her chair.

"Anna? Now?" she asks, grasping the edges of her chair.

"She's walking there. I've instructed the kitchen to wait until you arrive."

In her urgency to leave, Elsa ignores the stack of documents she's tipped over the table – and runs to the dining hall without stopping. A dim orange glow has settled upon the room by the time she arrives, and the servants have begun lighting the night lamps – but Anna is nowhere to be seen. She leans against the table and catches her breath, drumming her fingers against the wood.

_What am I going to do when she gets here? Eat a hearty dinner and pretend everything will be fine?_

Anna's chirpy singing voice reaches Elsa before the scent of her lavender perfume does, and she scurries behind a pillar. She bites on her lip and avoids touching anything as Anna skips into the dining hall alone. _Conceal, don't feel it, _she whispers to herself. But snowflakes have begun peeling from the tip of her blonde braid.

With a sigh, Elsa reveals herself and marches over to Anna. The princess recoils from the sight of her sister and the blood drains from her face.

"E-elsa?" Anna gasps, taking a step backwards and stumbling into a chair, "y-you're, um..here?"

"Of course!" Elsa replies, pulling out a chair for her sister, "I thought I'd have dinner with you today."

"That's lovely!" Anna says, and she attempts to sit before standing again when she notices Elsa still standing, "um, can I..? I mean – may I?"

"Please, Anna, we're sisters," Elsa insists, petting her on the shoulder, "you don't have to stand on ceremony with me."

Anna looks at her sister's hand on her shoulder, and into her eyes. A butler arrives and lays out a dinner before them in its entirety: the starter, main course and dessert. Despite being born into a life of plenty, Anna remains mesmerized by the sight of food – and Elsa takes advantage of the distraction to wave away the entire service staff, motioning for them to shut the doors.

"It's been awhile hasn't it?" Elsa says, pulling her chair from the other side of the table and setting it next to her sister. Anna looks at the floor, and shifts her own chair an inch away before seating herself for dinner.

"I didn't think you'd…eat with me. Not that I mind of course, but I assumed you'd be busy."

Elsa looks at the singular blonde lock of hair twined amidst a braid of red, and tries not to wince when Anna drags her hair against a plate of potato salad. She extends a gloved hand towards her shoulders and tucks the braid behind her ear. A tinge of red spreads across Anna's face; she manages a weak smile and looks down at the dozen articles of silverware before her. With a wary glance towards her sister, she seats herself straight in the chair and fumbles with the cutlery. Elsa pretends not to notice Anna scooping the salad into her mouth with a soup spoon, and pours herself a glass of wine.

The food on Elsa's plate goes untouched, and it has nothing to do with her wanting to maintain a figure. The sight of a primly dressed Anna seated barely inches away from her, and the memory of her limp body in a drunken haze just the night prior weigh upon her mind like a stack of bricks. Her appetite pays the price, and she spends most of her meal chasing her baby carrots around a fillet of salmon. Every clink of cutlery and sip of wine echoes throughout the hollow enormity of the royal dining room. The servants gather outside the room and press their ears to the doors, whispering to each other with hushed speculation about exactly _why _the royal sisters are eating together in silence.

Somewhere in the middle of dessert, Elsa's mind frays from the tension hanging between them, and she gestures at her sister's unfinished food.

"If you don't like your peas, I can always ask the chef to cook other vegetables," she says, keeping her gaze directed at Anna's face.

The princess stares at her plate of dessert. She runs a salad fork through the strawberry pudding in circles until it turns into mush. Her eyes close, and she whispers over the sound of Elsa's heavy breathing,

"Normally you'd just tell me to be a big girl and finish them."

"I know you're a big girl, Anna. I just-" she starts, before noticing Anna shaking her head.

"Oh really?" Anna asks with trembling lips. By the tone in her voice, Elsa knows it wasn't a question, and she stumbles upon her next words.

"Look," Elsa says, shifting in the chair to face her, "you need to tell me if there's anything wrong. Or, um, not going well. I'm always here for you, and I want you know that you can tell me anything."

Anna tips her head at her sister and Elsa's chest tightens at the sight of her sister's reddened eyes.

"You don't understand," she whispers, brushing her fingers against Elsa's cheek, "I doubt you ever will, and it's not like I want you to either."

"What?" Elsa frowns at the intensity of Anna's words. From the eloquence of her sentence, she knows her sister had been putting together the words for a long time coming.

"Listen, Anna. We need to talk," she says, grasping her sister's wrist, and exhaling a long sigh, "I saw you in the Barnmeadow Tavern last night."

Anna looks away, and scratches her nails against the tablecloth.

"Would you like to explain to me, exactly why you were out in town so late at night, and um, hanging out with – _those people?_"

"You wouldn't understand," Anna says, and her voice begins to break, "_I needed to escape."_

Elsa sighs, "Anna, you're old enough - I'm not stopping you from venturing outside the palace. It's just that, why don't you ask Kristoff to go with you? It's dangerous for a young lady to-"

"I knew you wouldn't understand," she answers, and shakes her head at Elsa, "don't you get it? This has nothing to do with the palace!"

"What-" Elsa gasps, and tendrils of cold fog slither from her breath. She feels Anna's hands trembling, and the princess presses her face into the sleeve of her dress.

"I think I'm done with my meal," Anna mutters, pulling her hand away from Elsa's, "see you whenever you're free enough to see me."

The princess rises from her chair, and Elsa grabs her arm.

"Wait! We're not done!" she gasps, and ice erupts on the floor beneath her.

"Aren't we?" Anna scowls, casting a look of contempt at the sight of Elsa's frozen gloves before pushing them away and leaving.

"Please Anna, please don't go! I need to-"

Grating pain slices through Elsa's heart at the sight of Anna wiping her eyes and running away from her. Tears appear on Elsa's cheeks when the memories return - it had always been herself doing this to Anna. In the room, at the ball, at the Ice Palace – it was always Elsa turning her back on Anna and pretending not to hear her disappointed sighs of abandonment. Guilt slams into Elsa's head as her tear-fogged gaze falls upon Anna disappearing behind a slamming door - and it crushes her, sending her crumbling to her knees as she weeps. The door creaks open again, and Elsa tilts her tear-stained face at her sister's shaking voice calling from the door.

"Has it even occurred to you that I _wasn't drunk_ last night?" she yells, before slamming the door again.


	5. Chapter 5

Heaving and spent from dashing up the stairs, Elsa slumps against Anna's door. Despite the chill air hanging in the atmosphere, her cheeks are stained with dried tears and beads of perspiration line her forehead. _What should I say? _She thinks, and the memory of her sister's yelling makes a reappearance in her mind for the thousandth time tonight. She drags her gloved fingers along the wood, and stares at the ceiling.

_Ironic, _she thinks, and scoffs at the door, _it's always been Anna doing this instead of me. _Fresh tears blossom from her eyes into snowflakes as she imagines her sister staring at the same kind of closed door before her face, hoping and wishing her sister could come out from the other side and put an end to the isolation tearing through her heart. _I should've known, _she thinks, _what it was like to be shut out like this. _Perhaps she would've opened up a little more. But this time, she fears it's too late – and it's going to take more than an act of self-sacrifice to mend the distance her little discovery has torn between them.

Her knuckles curl against the wood, but she hesitates. With the ice beneath her feet thawing to a puddle, Elsa swallows the lump in her throat and nudges the door open. Darkness greets her, and the breath catches in her throat when she realizes she was too late – Anna's gone, probably for good. There'd be no stopping her too, she could be wandering the woods looking for Kristoff, like how she hiked all the way up the North Mountain. But this time, Anna's the one running away from her. But for what? The confusion gnaws away at Elsa's mind and an icy fog forms on her breath.

A movement in the shadow catches her eyes, and her heart leaps as she notices Anna's silhouette by the dresser mirror. The moonlight filtering through her curtains provides scant illumination in the mess of her room, and she lights a lamp by the door.

Anna's figure comes into view as the dimness of the lamp fills the room with an orange glow. She squints at her body, hunched over the dresser with something in her shaking hand. It takes another moment of staring before she makes it out to be a tube of lipstick, held teetering on the edge of her lips. Her palace gown lies discarded in a heap by the wardrobe, and she has donned a brown Peasant's dress with a handkerchief tied around her hair.

"Anna?"

"Go away, Elsa," Anna's voice slices through the thinness of the air, and sticks itself into Elsa's heart like a blade. She clutches onto the door's knob for support; frost seeps through her gloves and crackles along the wood. Tears brim from her eyes and threaten to spill.

"Look, Anna, I'm-"

"Hurts doesn't it?" Anna says, looking at the floor, "to have someone you love so much tell you to go away."

Elsa tries to ignore the grating pain clenching at her chest and takes an apprehensive step towards her sister.

"Look, I need you to tell me what you were doing last night," Elsa asks.

"I was looking for you," Anna answers, "I just never thought I'd _really _find you."

"Christ, could you stop being so cryptic?" Elsa mutters, taking a step back as Anna whirls around. Her sister's eyes glisten in the dim glow filling the space between them, and she extends a hand to grasp her sister's arm.

"I had to do it that way," Anna says, dropping her voice to a whisper, "to protect you_._"

"What?" Elsa asks, snapping her eyes to her sister's hand wrapped around her elbow, "Anna you're shaking."

Anna releases her grip and brushes her knuckles along Elsa's tear-stained cheeks.

"I'm s-sorry," Anna stutters, cupping Elsa's face in her quivering hands, "H-have you e-ever looked in the mirror and realized how breath-taking you are?"

"Yes, I mean, no. I mean, um," Elsa takes her sister's hands and squeezes them in an attempt to get the trembling out, "Anna, you're beautiful too. But as I said earlier, you need to tell me-"

"They hang your portraits everywhere in the castle," Anna continues, avoiding her sister's gaze, "do you have any idea how much that _kills me?_"

Elsa sighs and pulls her sister's head close to her chest, "Look, I'm sorry if I haven't been around lately. It's tough, but I love you and I-"

"Do you really?" she whispers, choking back a sob, "or are you saying that because it's what older sisters are supposed to say to their younger sisters?"

"Of course I-"

"I need to go," Anna scowls, pulling herself out of her sister's arms and staring Elsa straight in the eyes, "something bad will happen if I stay here for another second."

Elsa jerks Anna's shoulders to face her as she tries to leave.

"No! Please, Anna – you don't have to do this! Whatever that's bothering you, we can fix this!"

"You can't! Let go of me!" Anna scowls, and shoves her sister hard in the shoulder.

Elsa stumbles backwards and loses her balance. Her fingers flail wildly as she falls, grabbing at the fabric hanging in the darkness. A chair topples over Elsa as she hits the floor with a thump, and the velvet curtain pools around her body.

"Oh my god, _no!_" Anna shrieks, and tries to snatch the velvet drapes from Elsa's fingers in a vain attempt to cover up the painting. Elsa tightens a vice-grip on the cloth; her eyes and lips widen at the unfinished portrait of herself on the easel.

"Anna," Elsa gasps, clutching the fabric to herself, "I don't remember this being here yesterday."

"Don't, _please_," Anna begs, trying to shield her sister's eyes from the painting.

Elsa shakes her sister's hands away and edges herself away from the wall on her hands as she takes in the sight of her naked self painted on the canvas. To say it was an artistic nude would've been generous; Anna had painted her body reclined along an ornate couch in the library, and her face was portrayed in what could've only been described as a look of arousal. There was generous usage of pink hues along her face and neck, and the beads of perspiration running down her forehead were so detailed one could've sworn they were actual drops of sweat. Her lips were glossy, her peaks stood at attention, her hips were arched and her toes curled against the couch's leather. Gone were the flowing tresses of yesterday's painting, replaced by a matted mess of golden hair – a far cry from the usual neat braid surrounding her crown.

"I don't-" Elsa gasps, her cheeks turning red and the words sputtering from her lips, "this, me. Naked. You drew me. This afternoon. Last night. Oh my god, Anna."

Elsa tears her gaze from the painting and gasps at the sight of her sister's face barely an inch away from her. Anna pushes her down into the carpet and brings her knees along Elsa's sides.

"It's too late, I guess now you know," Anna whispers, trailing her fingers along her face, "how much _I want you._"

Elsa's eyes flit back and forth between the dim glow of the painting and the fire sparkling in her sister's eyes. In her mind, everything starts falling into place – the trembling touch of her sister's hands the first time they went ice-skating, why Anna shied away every time her sister came up close to her, why she only chose blonde prostitutes. If Elsa was afraid of freezing her heart with ice, Anna feared burning her sister with the searing flames of her desire.

"You want me?" Elsa gasps and a burst of frost appears on Anna's lips, "How long-"

"Ever since I could _feel,_" Anna growls, yanking Elsa's hands against her chest, "_it was always you._"

Anna's warm breaths mingle with the frosty chill of her own breathing. She looks down, and her eyes widen at the ferocious pounding of Anna's heart against her hand. Her sister's fingers curl beneath her chin, and she tips it up to meet hers. Electricity buzzes through her body as Anna's lips graze her chin, and her skin prickles from the touch. She searches her sister's eyes for an explanation, an answer, _anything_, but the fire is gone.

"I can't," Anna sighs, shaking her head and pulling her hand away from her sister, "_I can't live like this around you anymore_."

She jumps to her feet, and flees the room, leaving Elsa lying on the floor in a puddle of thawed ice with her chest heaving, and her stare locked on the nude portrait of herself. The icy fabric of her gown had melted away and left her underclothes soaking wet; it takes several tries for her to conjure another dress.

Elsa's heart falters at the sight of the door left ajar, and she leaps after her sister's damp footsteps lining the hallway.

* * *

The soldier on guard duty shudders from the cold, and he pulls on a woolen overcoat right before the Queen appears in view with a gust of frozen wind howling behind her. The sight of Elsa running towards the guard post flanked by icicles sprouting from her feet proves too much for the soldier, and he stumbles backwards.

"Please, oh god, tell me you saw Anna pass through here," Elsa pleads.

"Your majesty," he sputters, "she…she did, barely a moment-"

"_Where is she?_" Elsa yells, and he barely avoids the icicles slicing past his uniform.

"She took a Palace horse up the northward road," he says, pointing towards the forest.

"The forest? She's riding to the forest?"

"Yes, your majesty, would you prefer the royal carriage or your horse?" he replies. But Elsa has already taken off beyond the palace courtyards.

In her desperation, Elsa throws caution to the wind and summons a snow creature. She visualizes a large bird, but with her mind rife with terror over the possibility of losing Anna, a winged snow-dragon covered in icy-spikes sprouts from the ground instead and sends her tumbling back in horror. However, the beast obeys her mental commands to carry her, and roars as it leaps into the chill spring air.

"Come on, Anna," she mutters to herself, searching the darkness beneath her, "_where are you?_"

The cold never bothered her, but a chill surges through her spine as she hears a scream echoing from the forest.


	6. Chapter 6

With her fingers clutching onto its icy reins for dear life, Elsa sends the dragon hurtling towards the ground. The snow creature tears through the tree canopy and slams into the soil, cratering a gargantuan ice patch in the forest. Elsa falls from the dragon and stumbles onto the ice; she darts her eyes from tree to tree. The full-moon basks the snow-covered trees in a pale glow. It takes her a moment to register that her latest creation, still growling and snorting icy fog, has turned the forest into a winter scene.

A scream pierces through the silence.

"_Anna!" _Elsa shrieks, and she takes off in the direction of her sister's voice. Icicles sprout from her footsteps and snow peels from her hair. The temperature dips to below freezing, and the sweat beading off Elsa's forehead crystallizes into ice. She spots a shadowy heap in the distance and sprints to the edge of a snow-covered slope. Without thinking, she throws herself onto it and screams when her hands come away with blood. The horse's lifeless brown eyes stare back at her; its throat still spurting blood from an open wound.

With shaking fingers, she pulls a cloak from the saddle and holds it up to the moonlight. Her heart stops when the crocus pattern comes into view.

_"Anna!" _she yells, pressing the cloth into her tear-streaked face. The smell of Anna's hair on the fabric sends her heart into a pounding frenzy. A gust of wind howls through the trees, shifting the leaves and revealing a glistening trail of blood down the slope. Her ears perk at the sound of metal clattering on the ground

She loses her balance as she dashes down the slope, and stumbles momentarily before getting up and following the trail of blood streaking the snow. Her eyes widen when she comes across a blood-soaked sword discarded amidst the line of crimson – bearing the Palace's coat of arms; its handle still warm to the touch. She finds a wolf several steps down from the weapon, its lifeless body lying limp in the snow. A gasp escapes her shuddering lips as she pries open its jaws and finds blood on its fangs. The trail of blood gets thicker the further as she dashes through the woods. Two more wolves lie dead in the snow, littered with slash wounds.

The sight of Anna lying in the sleet sends Elsa crumbling to her knees. Anna's skin had turned snowy white; her tattered peasant's dress hung in shreds from her body.

"_Oh god, Anna, no_!" Elsa screams, hauling herself to her sister's body. She drags away the dead wolf's body clutched in Anna's grasp, and pries off the blood-soaked dagger she had sunk into its throat. Her shaking hands come away with more blood, and she frantically tries to jam her fingers into the ugly gash lining Anna's neck. In a fit of panic, she rips off a glove and freezes her sister's wound shut; Anna's eyes stir at the cold frost running up her neck.

"Please Anna, please, stay with me," Elsa pleads, cauterizing another deep cut in Anna's shoulder.

She pulls her sister's body against hers, but the strength has left Anna, and her arms lie limp by her side. Her eyes widen at pink sleet left behind where Anna's body had lain, and she frantically feels her sister's blood-soaked chest for a pulse. The faint throb of Anna's heart against her hand causes a surge of panic to well up within her, and she screams for help.

The snow-dragon roars as it lands beside the sisters. Elsa jams her hands beneath Anna's shoulders and hauls her sister upright before crumbling beneath their combined weight. A throaty groan reverberates from Anna's chest as Elsa tries desperately to drag her onto the dragon.

"Go!" Elsa screams, and throws her body over Anna as the beast soars into the sky through a thicket of frozen branches and leaves.

"Oh god, please Anna, no, no, no," she whimpers, ripping open her sister's dress and finding more claw and teeth marks strewn across her back. Elsa frantically seals each cut, before she notices her tears dripping onto Anna's back and freezing solid. The memories creep into her mind: Anna tumbling down the snow from the accident when they were children, Anna buckled over the ice palace's floor from the ice she had sent into her heart, Anna freezing herself solid to save her from Hans. It was always Anna getting hurt and it always had something to do with Elsa.

_Just can't keep yourself from messing things up, can you? _Tears stream from her face and flutter away into snowflakes amidst the dragon's billowing wings.

"I-I'm sorry," she stutters, clutching her sister and trying to provide some semblance of warmth to her trembling body, "I'm sorry for everything."

* * *

With night duty weighing down on his eyelids, the guard on the Palace's watch tower lifts his head as a gust of icy wind slices into his cheek. He bolts upright and widens his eyes at a huge – _thing _– flying in his direction. His spear clatters against the floor when he sees the Queen flying towards him astride a massive snow dragon, and he buckles backwards with all the blood drained from his face.

"Wait!" Elsa yells as she lands the beast on the parapet, "Get help!"

The dragon unleashes a ferocious roar, snapping the soldier from his shock; he barely regains his senses enough to register the sight of Queen Elsa dragging the half-bloodied and frozen Princess from the beast, and obeys her commands.

Within seconds, more soldiers arrive with a stretcher and haul away Princess Anna. Elsa follows them to the infirmary, and the Palace physician receives her with a grimace on his face. He sends the nurse away for alcohol and bandages, and examines her wounds.

"Your Majesty, Anna is seriously hurt," he says, holding a candle to her thawing wounds, "it would help us greatly if you shared with us the circumstances of this misfortune. What happened to cause her injuries?"

Elsa clutches a shuddering hand to her lips and stares at the scene of nurses attending to Anna.

"Riding accident," she whispers through her fingers, "in the woods."

"She has lost consciousness," the doctor says, "we will need some time to stitch up her wounds-"

Unable to bear the sight of her bloodied sister any longer, Elsa stumbles out of the infirmary before the doctor finishes his sentence. She runs up the stairway and gets lost in the palace, wandering the halls in a daze. The servants have retired for the night, and an empty silence greets her at every turn. After an hour of walking, she finds herself outside Anna's room, and her heart aches at the sight of the door still half-open from when she had pursued Anna.

Elsa locks the door behind her, and turns up the lamp. Despite the brightness filling the room, shadows still infiltrate the corners from the sheer volume of mess lying around. Elsa scoffs at the untidiness of Anna's room, and wonders if she'll ever unravel the shadows that plague her sister's heart. The nude painting sits on the easel with the velvet curtain pooled around its frame like a half-undone dress. It stares back at Elsa, confronting her about her own feelings – and in her confusion she looks around the room for something to distract herself.

A stack of canvases sit upright in a corner; from the plain wooden frames, she knows Anna had framed these herself. There was no intention to put them up either, not even in her own room. Elsa's chest hurts more and more as she takes each one out and realizes they all depicted her: oil, watercolour, tempera, charcoal sketches; by the beach, in her ice palace, in the woods, in the garden. _Anna only ever drew her sister. _Nothing else.

Amidst the stack paintings, Elsa finds the picture of her by the fountain, and she places it by the nude painting. Another royal portrait of Elsa hangs over the fireplace, but from the level of detail crafted into its every brushstroke, it looks like another one of Anna's creations. Her hair had been tied into its usual neat braid around her crown, and her chin lifted in a regal posture. From the position of the painting in front of Anna's bed, it was likely her sister saw it every night before she drifted away to sleep.

Elsa slumps into the bed and runs her fingers over the pillows, coming away with strands of red hair and the occasional blonde. She pulls the blanket to her face and her eyes brim with tears as she inhales. A sob escapes her lips; she looks up at the walls and sighs.

"_Please be alright, Anna,"_ she pleads with the ceiling, "_Forgive me for letting you go._"

Elsa stares at the three paintings on Anna's wall: the royal coronation portrait, the oil painting of her in the summer dress, and the nude portrait of her in the library.

_Queen, Sister, Lover. _

She dozes off amidst the tangle of sheets and blankets, still unsure of which one she likes the best.


	7. Chapter 7

Elsa strides into the royal meeting room on a plane of ice crackling beneath her footsteps. On one side of the table, Arendelle's highest ranking Generals and Admirals stand to attention, clad in winter uniforms beneath sunlight streaming from the skylights. Wry-faced elderly men in eyeglasses from the Department of Finance occupy the other side; they bow in deference as Elsa takes her position at table's head.

"I trust your respective departments delivered the memorandums for today's meeting," she announces, and allows the statesmen to sit before commencing her opening argument.

"A year ago, I created an ice-golem from the ground. Last night, I materialized a snow-dragon out of thin air. These creatures are capable of sentient thought, and obey my commands autonomously. They will provide an excellent substitute for our current defence arrangements, and I wish to demobilize a significant portion of Arendelle's armed forces in order to save on taxation revenue."

Immediately, the noise of shouting reverberates through the chamber as the two rows of statesmen bolt out of their chairs and quarrel with each other. Each side raises a ruckus over who gets to have their points heard.

"You have two hours to reach a decision," Elsa shouts, but her voice is drowned out by the hammering of fists on the table as each side vehemently accuses the other of not acting in the best interests of the Kingdom.

Gerda brushes the sleet from her hair and pours Elsa a cup of coffee. A snowstorm brews in the meeting hall, centered around Elsa's figure slumped in her throne – clutching at her forehead and a million miles away from the commotion going on in front of her. Servants wheel out a gigantic chalkboard and some semblance of order returns to the room as the statesmen take turns to list out their squabbles with pieces of grey chalk.

From between her fingers, Elsa sees a tax adviser hurling a blackboard duster at the Fleet Admiral; she manages a weak smile – knowing she has no mood to listen to the debate today, and it made perfect sense to let them fight it out among themselves. She motions for Gerda to approach, and the woman bows her head by Elsa's ear.

"Gerda, did you manage to get a look at how Anna's doing?"

"Your Majesty, not since we last saw her Highness in the infirmary five minutes ago."

"Oh yes, that's…right, we just did."

"Her Highness is likely still asleep, but if you wish, we can visit her again when this meeting is concluded."

Elsa nods, and continues sipping on strong, black tea as scribes frantically write and re-write the points being debated.

* * *

She keeps her eyes fixed on the clock for the last half-hour before it strikes ten, and rises from her chair without waiting for the debate to end. With the noise of squabbling still resonating through in the room, she clears her throat, and the entire room stands to attention in silence. A scribe presents the incomplete minutes of the meeting to Elsa and she signs at the bottom.

"I can see that none of you are united enough to make a decision, we will reconvene when all of you decide to work together," Elsa announces, slamming the royal seal on each page, "until then, I'm issuing a moratorium on all command position salaries."

Elsa descends the throne between the two rows disgruntled faces and hurries out of the room while the servants lay her documents by the fireplace to thaw.

* * *

The Palace Physician receives Queen Elsa outside the infirmary, and she pleads with him for news.

"Your Majesty, for her Highness's safety, we have kept her under chloroform while the stitches heal. It was fortunate you froze the ones on her back; these wounds are liable to fall under infection."

"When will she wake up?"

"We're not sure, but she's responding well to the treatment – brought about in no small part by your Majesty's ice."

She thanks the doctor and tiptoes into the infirmary. The smell of alcohol wafting into her nose causes Elsa to cringe, but she relaxes at the rays of sunlight falling upon Anna's face as she lies in her bed by the window.

"Shut the door," she calls out, and kneels by her sister's side.

Little color has returned to her cheeks; Anna's dress had been removed and replaced with swathes of dressing bandages hidden beneath a plain blanket. Despite the melancholic ambiance in the room, Anna's gentle breathing in her sleep exude a peaceful radiance, and her beauty is unmarred by the scars upon her body. Elsa puts a trembling hand on Anna's chest and a tear forms in her eye when she feels the slow, steady thump of her heart.

"Anna," she whispers, and seats herself by her sister's side, "can you hear me?"

She stares at her sister's closed eyes, trying to detect the faintest of movements that could give her consciousness away. Her gaze travels from Anna's face to the ugly stitch marks in her neck, and to the freckles splayed across her shoulders. Elsa's lips part as she notices the freckles across her collarbone, and she traces a gloved finger against each one.

_You never knew your sister had freckles on her shoulders did you? Not even when she wore that off-shoulder dress at your Coronation. _

Elsa tries to form a coherent counter-argument in her mind, before realizing it's true – she always looked away, and wonders why she ever did.

"You're beautiful," Elsa whispers, removing her gloves and testing her fingers against the window-sill before grasping Anna's fingers. Even in her slumber, Anna's fingers emanate warmth against her touch, and Elsa presses her lips to them.

"Perhaps I'm running from something too," she murmurs and rests her head on Anna's chest. Her fingers curl against the sheets as Anna's chest shifts with each breath, and her heartbeat resonates a sweet melody in Elsa's ears. Her ears linger against Anna's chest, and she imagines listening to her every thought – knowing her sister was always one to think with her heart.

"Maybe you can tell me if I am," she whispers, brushing her lips up against Anna's ears, "you've always been better at these kind of things."

"A-Anna," Elsa stammers, savoring her sister's strawberry-cherry breath against her cheeks, "I had something I wanted to tell you at the Fjord before winter broke."

She cups her sister's face in her hands and brushes through her hair.

"I l-love you."

Elsa's heart begins to pound in her chest; a bead of perspiration slithers down her eyebrows and she leans in to kiss her sister. At once, she recoils from Anna and wipes the sweat from her forehead. Heat surges through her face and she touches her lips.

"I'm...I'm sorry," she stutters, and her cheeks turn beet-red, "that was for yesterday – in your room. It was what I really wanted but the moment just fell upon us and I'm always so self-conscious and cautious and…and…"

A flutter of disappointment wells up in Elsa as she realizes she had just given away her first kiss to her unconscious sister, and the fact that Anna didn't and couldn't kiss her back. But still, she tasted of strawberries and cream, and the sweet reminiscence brings a smile to Elsa's lips.

"I can be a total idiot sometimes," she says, pursing her lips together and staring at the ceiling, "maybe I was wrong about us being so different after all."

The sound of knocking snaps Elsa out of the intoxicating spell which has befallen her. _Time to be the Queen again, _she thinks, pulling on her door opens and Kai looks in with widened eyes; he makes the sign of the cross before apologizing profusely and slamming the door shut.

"What…?"

Elsa looks down and gasps at the chemise clinging to her body, soaking wet from where her ice gown had melted into it.

* * *

The Mayor and Sanitation director seat themselves several chairs away from Elsa's throne in the royal meeting hall. She stares at the look of stunned silence on their faces and repeats herself slowly, ensuring they catch every word.

"You have to do something about the water in Barnmeadow, it's dirty and unfit for drinking."

The two men look at each other and back at the Queen.

"Your Majesty, my humblest apologies for asking, but how did you come to know about this matter?" The Mayor asks.

Elsa raises her eyebrows at the man, "What? I don't- I mean, does it even matter how I knew?"

"Did Frederik tell you?" The director asks.

"Who on earth is Fred- Look, I have no time for politics, could the two of you do something about the water?"

The director clears his throat and hesitates before continuing, "Your Majesty, I don't mean to denigrate the hardworking folk of Barnmeadow, but the water has been this way since your Father's time, and it-"

"Is there any reason why I should have clean water here in the Palace while the rural provinces do not?"

"Well, I mean-"

Elsa motions for the scribe to bring out two sets of documents, and she lays them out side by side facing the men, covering one set with her hands.

"I'm going to give you a choice: you can either sign the decree in front of you, stating that you will rectify the water sanitation issue in Barnmeadow; or I'm going to sign the one underneath my hands."

Her fingers shift, revealing the words _dispossession of land, _and _confiscation of property._ The men drop their gazes to the paper crackling with frost from Elsa's fingers, and they sign the other decree with hands trembling on their quills. Elsa slams the royal seal into the documents with such ferocity that a massive snowflake is left embedded into the table, and she leaves the room with a storm brewing on the cape of her gown.

* * *

Elsa jumps from her office chair at the sound of knocking, and her heart leaps at the sight of the royal physician.

"Your Majesty, Princess Anna has been roused from her sleep. She is still weary from sedation, but you may see her if you wish."

"Yes!" Elsa cheers, grabbing his hands and shaking them violently, "thank you so much!"

Within minutes, Elsa arrives at the infirmary; her gown is intact, but there isn't a trace of ice anywhere behind her. She fiddles with her gloves as she hesitates at the door, wearing and removing them over and over again. Eventually she settles on leaving them on, and creaks opens the door. The dim candlelight drapes her sister's pale features like a blanket of warmth, but the smell of blood and alcohol lingers.

Anna stirs from her sleep when Elsa grasps her fingers. The blues in her eyes glisten when they open, and her throat emits a groan as she tries to get up.

"No, no, don't. Anna, just lie down," Elsa gasps, nudging her sister back into the sheets.

"Elsa," Anna slurs, curling her fingers around Elsa's, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for yesterday."

"Shh, it's ok," Elsa mutters and touches her finger to Anna's lips, "it's been nearly two days."

Their eyes meet, and for a moment the sisters stare at each other with their hands intertwined. Despite her best attempts at hiding it, Anna chokes back a sob, and a muffled gasp escapes Elsa's throat. She extends a hand towards her sister's face, and pauses to remove her gloves before wiping the tear sliding across her freckled cheeks.

"Two days huh?" Anna says, "That explains why I'm so hungry."

"It's not much, but I brought you something," Elsa says. She reaches into the folds of her gown and retrieves a bar of chocolate. Although it's been kept below a freezing temperature, the chocolate thaws quickly when Anna smiles at the brown slab held before her face. Elsa breaks off a piece and feeds her sister.

"It's perfect," Anna says, trying her best to take the chocolate from Elsa's quivering fingers. After a few bites, her lips graze Elsa's fingers, which only serves to amplify the shaking in her sister's hand.

"Arh yew awraid uuff me?" Anna mumbles as she chews on lumps of chocolate, "Yorgh hunds are shhookin."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Elsa chides, wiping a brown line on Anna's chin, "and no, I'm not afraid of you."

Anna breaks off a square of chocolate; with her arms still numb from sleep, she misjudges the distance and jams it into her sister's mouth. But Elsa takes hold of her sister's fingers and kisses the chocolate away.

"I'm sorry," Anna says, "not for that night, for this. I mean, I'm sorry for that too, but I meant this."

Elsa giggles at the sight of pink spreading across her sister's cheeks, "I'm not mad at you, Anna."

"The doctor said you saved my life," Anna says, "when you froze my wounds shut."

"It wasn't like that at all-"

"Well, I don't care, we're even now. I saved your life and you saved mine, how about that?" Anna quips, sticking her tongue out and wagging it at Elsa.

"It was panic really – I hope I didn't hurt you too much with the ice."

"Oh please, Elsa," Anna says, flicking her wrist in the air, "you froze my heart before, this is nothing."

"I'm…I'm sorry for that – I just…I- how did it feel like?"

Anna looks away and stares at her reflection in the window pane.

"It felt like hatred," she says, looking away from her sister, "at that very moment, I hated you with everything in my heart. It was like the ice made me hate you, and it was awful, having that dirty feeling stuck inside me even if it was just for a second. You have no idea how painful it is to hate someone against your will, especially when it's someone I love so much."

Elsa stares at her hands and fog forms on her breath. The temperature dips; Anna feels a cold wafting against her cheek and she grabs her sister's hands, snapping Elsa out of her daze.

"Also, you ruined my hair," Anna says, feeling the warmth return to her hands.

"You don't like blonde?" Elsa asks, leaning closer and twirling the singular lock of blonde amongst the reds.

"I do," Anna says, and her voice drops to a whisper, "but only on you."

Anna runs her fingers among the bumpy braids surrounding Elsa's crown. She skirts around the edge of the tiara and touches the edge of her ears, before emitting a muffled groan.

"Anna? What's wrong?" Elsa asks.

"Sorry, it's the stitches on my shoulder," Anna answers, clutching at her shoulder, "they hurt sometimes."

Elsa shifts away her sister's hand, and blows a breath of frost on her wound, numbing the pain.

"Oh god," Anna moans, "that's incredible."

She presses her lips to the frost, and it melts into a soothing chill.

"Better?"

"Yes," Anna says, pausing for a moment before whispering, "but now my neck hurts too."

Elsa runs her lips along Anna's ears, "You're greedy," she whispers, before touching them to her neck. Frost crackles from her lips and into Anna's neck, and her back arches at the chill surging into her spine.

"E-elsa," she stammers, crushing her sister's ice dress between her fingers, "I k-kinda like this. _Very much._"

Elsa's voice deepens to a sultry drawl, "I could help with your other wounds too."

"I would like that very much," Anna whispers into Elsa's hair; she pauses before adding, "Your Majesty."

She skims her lips over each one of the freckles on Anna's reddened cheeks, and they hover over her nose.

"You don't have to call me that," Elsa whispers, breathing a chill fog on Anna's lips, "we're sisters."

For a moment, the sisters hold each other by the shoulders, shaking from the heady anticipation of being this close to one another. Elsa's last two words sink into their minds, and ambivalence sprouts in their faces. They can see each others reflection in their eyes, and for once, Anna knows there's a part of herself locked away deep in her sister's heart.

A loud knocking yanks Elsa out of her trance. _"Your Majesty!" _

"I'm sorry-" they say at the same time.

"I should go," Elsa says, trying not to notice the disappointment on Anna's face, "I have a meeting."

Anna watches her sister patch up the huge gaping holes where the firm grasp of her fingers had torn into. The sight of Elsa pulling on her gloves touches a nerve in her heart. She knows why, it was her fingers that did it – those long slender fingers which held her hands when they were children. They were breath-taking, and it killed her that she kept them hidden beneath those awful gloves all the time.

"Elsa," Anna calls out as her sister hesitates on the door knob, "I dreamt you kissed me."

Elsa's heart skips a beat, but a smile spreads across her face as she recalls. The words churn through her head, and she pieces together a curt farewell, before her heart interrupts and spews out what she's been longing to say.

"I-I dreamt I k-kissed you too," she sputters, staring at the door, "_but I was wide awake_."

With a smile on her trembling lips, Elsa dashes out of the room, unsure of whether she regretted saying it.


	8. Chapter 8

Elsa strolls over to a daisy bush, taking care to avoid the cracks in the garden's granite slabs. Her crown glimmers beneath the sunlight streaming through the clouds and beating on her head, but the Ice Queen doesn't perspire in the slightest. Hummingbirds tweet and flutter around when she runs her fingers against the petals. Elsa sighs and takes a step back to admire the neatly arranged mix of red and white daisies, splayed out upon the bush like a kaleidoscope of blood on snow.

A grimace forms on her face when she hears the crunching of boots on gravel; she turns and folds her arms as Kai arrives and bows before her.

"Your Majesty," he announces, holding out a stack of paper, "the Demobilization Committee has reached an agreement."

Elsa takes the document and weighs it in the palm of her hand. It's a hefty stack, but she turns to the last page and scoffs at the dozen signatures filling each line, with one last space awaiting hers.

"That didn't take very long," Elsa sneers, flipping through the pages, "what did they agree upon?"

"The Department of Taxation has recommended demobilization in tranches to minimize the impact of unemployment in the countryside. The Admirals have also suggested that a portion of Arendelle's Navy be turned over to the merchant fleet, in exchange for a retention of command positions," Kai says, before hesitating, "and um…"

Elsa nods, and he continues.

"The general consensus among the military is that they're…er…unsure of how your powers work. The Chiefs of the Armed forces want to conduct field trials with you; I told them it was pointless, but they kept insisting it was for the good of Arendelle and-"

"Actually," Elsa interrupts, "that's a good idea. I don't know how far my powers can go either."

"Very well then, I'll tell them to go ahead with the planning. There isn't enough open space in the Capital's vicinity so they've decided to hold it somewhere else next month. The details are in the last section."

"Reconvene the Committee," Elsa sighs, patting the stack of paper, "I'll read this later and sign it when we meet again."

Kai bows and takes his leave, allowing Elsa the leisure of continuing her stroll amidst the buzzing of honey bees. She seats herself on a stone bench by the daisy bush, keeping her hand poised on the documents. A warm breeze wafting through the beech trees carries the scent of strawberries to Elsa's nose; she freezes the paper against the bench and holds her breath, listening to the rustle of leaves. The sound of a slipper dragging against grass confirms her thoughts, and she bolts up from the bench.

"Anna!" Elsa gasps as her sister staggers in view from behind a tree clutching a cane, "You're _not_ supposed to be out and about! I specifically told you to rest in-"

"Can't keep me locked up forever!" Anna sneers. Despite the aid of her walking stick, she stubs her toe on a tree root and stumbles. Elsa shrieks and leaps to Anna with grass freezing beneath her feet, but the sudden touch of metal to her neck cuts off her approach.

"What-" Elsa stammers, staring at the glinting blade held to her throat. On the other end of the sword, Anna's lips curl into a smirk. Elsa cocks an eyebrow at her sister, and her breath forms a fog on the gray steel.

"I wish you could see your own face," Anna giggles, sheathing the sword back into her cane, "you look hilarious when you're scared."

"Stop fooling around, that's dangerous," Elsa scowls, "where'd you get that from anyway?"

"My fencing instructor made it," Anna says, supporting her weight on the walking stick.

"You're taking _fencing_? Weren't you doing ballet classes?"

"Oh, _please _Elsa," Anna says, twirling the stick around between her fingers, "I…um…stopped after mom and dad…y'know. But hey, it's fun – you should join me sometime."

Elsa waits for the spinning stick to collide with Anna's head; she takes advantage of the momentary distraction to remove her gloves and extend a blade of ice from her fingertips.

"I don't need to fence," Elsa smirks, tipping Anna's chin with her ice-sword. Anna gasps and shifts her weight back against the tree. Their eyes meet, and a tinge of pink spreads across Anna's face. Beneath the sunlight filtering through Beech leaves, Elsa notices the tip of her sword melting into a sheen under her sister's chin.

"That's a neat trick," Anna says, running her hand along the blade. Her forearm flexes as she curls her fingers around the mid-point, and the blade snaps with a crunch.

"You're pretty strong," Elsa comments, watching her sister bring the blade to her lips.

"Mm, this icicle sure is delicious," Anna says, keeping her eyes fixed on her sister as she swirls her tongue around the tip.

The gloves slip from Elsa's hands and flutter to the ground; she takes a step closer and breathes in her sister's strawberry-cotton scent. Anna drops the icicle against the ground with a clunk; her gaze travels up the slit of her sister's gown, and it lingers on the pale smoothness of her ungloved hands. The sound of her thumping heart punctuates the distance between them, and Anna's hair flutters amidst the heavy breathing of Elsa's breath.

"There's more where that came from," Elsa whispers, and Anna slips the cool of her fingers into her sister's hands. She skims her lips against each one of Elsa's fingers, taking care to avoid touching her signet ring. The summer heat bearing down on her skin makes concentrating on keeping her dress in one piece immensely difficult; the task made even more insurmountable with Anna taking deliberate pleasure in kissing each one of her fingertips.

Anna notices her sister's face turning red, and her lips curl into a smile. She pulls Elsa into her arms, and brushes her lips along her ears.

"I have something to say," Anna whispers, her voice deepening to a throaty drawl, "I came out just to see you."

Elsa rests a hand upon her sister's chest and smiles against her braids, "you didn't have to."

"I missed you," she slurs, running her lips along the pink hue lining Elsa's warm face.

"Anna…I…I…" Elsa stammers and clutches at Anna's fingers in an attempt to hold onto her own sanity and sense of reason, "_please_."

"Please what?" Anna answers, taking her time to savor the delicate fragrance of lavender lining her sister's neck. The touch of Anna's lips to her neck drags a throaty moan out from the pit of her stomach, and despite her best attempts at concealing it – another one follows, louder than the last.

Her eyes flutter open at the sound of tweeting hummingbirds. Elsa brushes Anna's braids with trembling hands, and she hesitates before whispering, "_Not here._" The sensation of Anna pushing her away feels like falling, and her heart breaks when she sees a look of hurt flash across her sister's eyes.

Elsa pulls Anna by the shoulders, "I'm sorry-"

"You're such a tease," Anna hisses, flicking her sister's hand away. She starts hobbling away, but the pain tearing through her leg causes her to stumble, and Elsa grabs her by the hips.

"Oh, no you don't. You're not going anywhere this time," Elsa scowls. Despite the Queen's slim frame, she picks her sister up easily. Anna pretends to resist with a couple of kicks, before relaxing and allowing Elsa to haul her over to the bench with a grin plastered on her face.

"Look, Anna. I'm sorry – it's just that we can't get too comfortable out here. The palace will talk."

"It's ok," Anna replies, looking down and fiddling with the pleats of her dress, "I just thought I…um…y'know…maybe I was getting somewhere with you."

A thought flashes through Elsa's mind, and she grabs the stack of thawed paper by her side.

"Well, you're in luck, because next month, I am going on a political trip to-" Elsa says, flipping through the documents and tracing her fingers down the last section, "_Finnmark!_"

Anna's eyes widen at the name, "Finnmark? Wow that's…far! It's almost at the edge of _Russia!_"

"Been studying geography haven't you?" Elsa quips, ruffling her sister's hair. Anna's eyes beam with hope; she bites her lower lip and eagerly awaits her sister's next words.

"…and I want you to come with me," Elsa continues, "it's going to be boring and lonely being so far away with no-one but grumpy old men for company."

Anna shrugs and turns away; it takes all the strength in her face to force a pretend frown onto her face, "There's permafrost in Finnmark, and it's cold, even for this time of the year,"

Elsa studies her sister's expression intently; a sigh escapes her when she sees Anna hiding a smile. She never imagined today could get any brighter, but it just did.

"Keep smiling like that and I'll thaw it for you when we get there," Elsa says, pulling Anna's shoulders close to her and dropping her voice to a whisper, "_I'm in love with your smile after all_."

"…and I'm in love with _you,_" Anna chimes, leaning over and kissing her sister on the cheek.


	9. Chapter 9

The man straightens his collar again as he waits in the Palace's hallway. His faded uniform looks out-of-place amongst the portraits of generals and statesmen, with starched suits weighed down by rows of medals. Along the man's chest, a row of empty pinholes lie, hollow vestiges of his former days. Now, there's nothing but wrinkles streaking across his forehead and grey hair balding from his head to remind him of everything which went wrong. He tips the muddy, broken-in boots to his gaze and wonders how on earth the guards let him through with such a shoddy appearance. Truth be told, this _was _the best uniform he could come up with on such a short notice.

The doors swing open, and he snaps to attention as Kai emerges from the office.

"The Queen will see you now," Kai announces, "I trust you haven't forgotten your courtesies."

He nods and slips into Elsa's office, treading softly on the woolen carpet as though it was woven from glass. His eyes widen at the Queen seated behind her desk dressed in farmer's clothes, and a woody, earthy scent saturates his senses. Elsa's slim figure barely fills the throne built for the imposing frame of her father's shoulders – but the dignified poise of her posture and the terrifying aura exuded by her hands saturates the room with a regal presence. Her crown braid had been undone and replaced by a pair of pigtails, unadorned by jewellery of any sort. Despite her homely dressing, she looks at ease amongst the implements representing her Monarchical power.

The man tips his gaze to the coronation portrait on the wall, and salutes her – before changing his mind and bowing. Elsa doesn't look up from the folder opened before her; she keeps her finger fixed on a document while writing a letter.

"Superintendent Peter Kristian," Elsa announces.

The look in his eyes betrays the surprise written on his face; it's been a long time since anyone has attached a rank to his name.

"Your Majesty," he says, bowing deeply, "I apologize sincerely for my shoddy appearance. To what do-"

"You were tasked with investigating a suspected crime of embezzlement from the Kingdom Treasury four months following my Father's untimely death at sea," Elsa says without looking up, "during the course of your investigation, you were dismissed from the Arendelle Police Service. Are these facts correct?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

Elsa finally looks up and stares straight into his eyes.

"What was the cause for your dismissal?"

He looks down and shifts his weight on his other boot. A lump forms in his throat and he swallows, stammering, "It was for reasons unrelated to the investigation."

"I don't think so," Elsa replies curtly, "there's nothing in your file so suggest it."

"If I may be so bold, your Majesty - a lot of truths are lost in the paperwork."

"You're right," Elsa says, shutting the file and signing her letter, "I'm reinstating you as Superintendent in the Arendelle Police Service."

The man drops to a knee and declares, "Your Majesty, I do not...I do not deserve such an act of kindness."

"Get up," Elsa orders, "this isn't an act of kindness. You are to move back into your former quarters and resume investigation into the case."

"But...there's someone else there."

"You mean the officer who took your job and ceased the embezzlement investigation?" Elsa says, slotting the letter into an envelope and sealing it with great deliberation, "I had a discussion with him about his future here in Arendelle. If he took my words seriously, he should be in France by now."

"Your Majesty, I promise you that I will not fail-"

Elsa waves a hand at him, "Please, no promises; or I'll have to exile you too if you break them."

With a flick of her wrist, the man's letter of appointment – and a new lease on his life – slides across the red leather of her mahogany desk and comes to a halt before his bewildered eyes. His fingers tremble on the envelope, before he accepts it with both hands and a bow. The clock strikes six and Elsa doesn't wait for the man to leave; she brushes past him on her way into the corridor, where Gerda awaits her.

"Your traveling clothes are ready, your Majesty," she says, handing over a bag patched together from scraps of tweed and cotton.

The smell of lemon soap from neatly folded dresses and underclothes greets her when she opens the bag. Tucked beneath layers of fabric, the glint of a crown catches Elsa's eye, and she smiles.

* * *

"Woh, Elsa!" Anna chimes upon seeing her sister saunter into the Palace courtyard, "you look…different! I mean, you pull off the country look pretty well!"

"So do you, Anna," Elsa smiles, taking her sister's hands in hers, "I wouldn't have recognized you in Barnmeadow if your hair wasn't peeping out from under the shawl."

Beneath the orange glow illuminating her face, Elsa fails to detect a tinge of red blossoming across Anna's face. The younger sister inhales deeply. "Your dress smells like grass," Anna whispers, "like the smell of grass after the rain."

"Well, it's part of the disguise. I don't intend on waltzing into Finnmark as the Queen. Are you ready to go?"

"Of course! I was _born _ready!" Anna exclaims, hopping up and down, "I mean, I've never traveled this far before! The North Mountain doesn't count!"

"Well, just make sure you-"

"Aren't we running a little late? I saw the ships setting sail for Finnmark last Friday, and um…where's the royal carriage?" Anna buzzes.

A smirk forms on Elsa's lips, "who says we're sailing there?"

"We're riding to Finnmark? Cool! Wow, it sure is going to take a long time traveling overland."

Elsa's gaze travels towards the North Mountain as Anna buzzes in her ear about the different routes she's looked up on maps. With the softest of Elsa's whispers lost in the gleeful chatter of Anna's voice, the Queen holds her breath, and waits. A minute passes, and she nudges Anna behind her.

"Stand back," Elsa insists, "she'll be here soon."

"_She?_" Anna asks, "Who's _she_?"

With a thunderous flap of its wings filling the courtyard with sleet, Elsa's snow-dragon unleashes a deafening roar as it lands squarely in front of Elsa, sending Anna stumbling backwards.

"_Oh my God!" _Anna screams, scurrying behind Elsa's knee, "it looks more like a _he_! This one's even bigger than Marshmallow!"

"Relax Anna," Elsa says and brushes the thick layer of snow flung on Anna's hair, "she's helping to get us there."

"So we're going to _fly _there?" Anna gasps, shuddering at the sight of the enormous flying beast snorting icy fog in her face, "I've never flown before. In fact, I don't think anyone ever has."

"Actually, you have," Elsa says, "I used her when you got attacked in the woods."

"So _that _was how I got home!" Anna exclaims. Despite her earlier apprehension, Anna gleefully mounts the dragon as though it were any Palace horse, and Elsa takes her position behind Anna. The feeling of her body nestling within the comfort of Elsa's embrace fills her with a rush of warmth; she relaxes momentarily before the dragon leaps from the earth and she grabs hold of the reins for dear life. A piercing shriek escapes her lips and slices through the air as the beast soars into the sky, followed by a pair of voices dotting the silence of the night sky with the sounds of cheery giggling.

* * *

Slouched against a boulder, Anna's steady breathing bubbles from her lips in a throaty snore.

"Wake up, Anna," Elsa whispers against her sister's hair.

Anna stirs from her sleep, "Are we there yet?"

"Yes," Elsa answers, draping her cloak over Anna's shoulders, "you started sleeping like a rock halfway through the journey."

"That's because…well…it just feels _so_ _good_ being in your arms."

"…and you look _so cute_ when you're sleeping," Elsa says, helping Anna to her feet. They stand at the edge of a dirt trail overlooking the only village in Finnmark, its streetlamps illuminating the dark, sprawling plains with a speckling of lights, mirroring the star-strewn skies above.

"Finnmark huh?" Anna whispers to the night-breeze, "it's less cold than I imagined."

"It'll get colder tomorrow morning, unless you keep up that cute smile of yours."

Anna sticks her fingers into the corners of her mouth and pulls out the biggest grin her face can muster. Although it's nothing more than a faint row of teeth glowing beneath the pale moonlight, the temperature warms by a notch as the sisters stroll down the dirt path to the village.

As they approach the edge of Finnmark, Elsa slips her fingers from Anna's and puts on a pair of gloves. The sound of singing and dancing greets them as they stroll along the streets arm-in-arm posing as a pair of peasant girls.

Despite the town's isolation from the rest of Arendelle, an electric energy buzzes through the village square as the townsfolk celebrates its autumn harvest. Large tents had been set up with everything from roasted boar to barrels of foamy ale. Anna's eyes brighten at the sight and sound of dancing peasants in the centre of the square. It's like nothing she's ever seen before – neither the straitlaced ballroom dances at Palace parties nor the stuffy folk dances in the Capital's spring carnival could compare to the raw, unabated energy abound in the village.

A red-faced man dragging a lute behind him stumbles between Elsa and Anna, separating their linked arms.

"Go on then," Elsa raises her voice over the sound of chortling from a table of farmers and gestures towards the milkmaidens dancing to the sound of fiddles, "you've always loved dancing."

Anna plants a kiss on her sister's cheek and skips off to join the crowd, leaving her to wander the circumference of the festivities at play. Elsa smiles at the elaborate sculpture of her queenly figure perched over a fountain; garlands of lilies grace its stone neck and wreaths of crocus petals adorn her iron crown. The cheer and smile on the faces of Finnmark's humble woodcutters and farmers reassures her that even if they weren't here as Queen and Princess, the town still welcomed them as if they were.

With nothing else left to do, Elsa keeps an eye on her sister's dancing as she saunters over to a tent to sample the town's ale. She fills herself a mug full of frothy ale, but the memory of Barnmeadow's foul drainwater turns her mouth dry, and she hesitates her lips on the edge of the mug. To her surprise, the richness of malted barley floods her mouth with a smooth velvety texture, and by the time she bears to pull the mug away from herself – half of it has disappeared down her throat. _At least this town doesn't have a water problem. _

The burn of alcohol blurs her mind momentarily; Elsa takes a step forward, and she stumbles into another person.

"Woah, easy there, hun," A woman's voice drawls in her ear, "a bit early to be havin' much Ale eh?"

A pair of strong arms grip her shoulders and pull her upright. Elsa tips her head up at the stranger's porcelain-pale features topped off with silky-smooth golden hair. She stands up straight and comes level with her striking green eyes. It's been a long time since the Queen had met a woman who was as tall as her; even Anna couldn't match her height in heels. The woman's humble clothes stained with mud and bits of grass suggest that she, like everyone else – had come in from a hard day's work in the fields to unwind. Elsa travels her gaze down her arm and along her impressively long fingers wrapped around a bottle of clear liquid.

"Is that…water?" Elsa says, setting her mug on the table.

"Vodka!" the woman chirps, taking a swig and exhaling the intoxicating scent of alcohol onto Elsa's face.

"Christ, that's strong!" Elsa exclaims.

The woman puts on a thick faux-Russian accent, "none for you though, you've certainly had enough for tonight."

"Of course not," Elsa says, gripping the edges of the table and trying to position herself on the bench, "do you happen to be Russian?"

"My father is. He brings the village crates of vodka every time the ship comes back," she says, sitting next to Elsa, "would you fancy having a drink with this half-Russian girl?"

Elsa looks over her shoulders and barely makes out Anna's reddish braids twirling in the air as she skips to the tune of a folk song.

"Of course," Elsa says, "perhaps you'll help me stay sober."

"I wouldn't want any old sleaze taking advantage of a beautiful lady like yourself," she says, tucking a disheveled fringe behind Elsa's ear. Her face blushes scarlet at the touch of the stranger's fingers to her ears, and a smirk forms on the lady's lips.

"I'm Anna-" she starts, and a chill forms on Elsa's breath – before the woman continues, "_Anastasia._"

"Pretty name," Elsa answers, taking another sip of her Ale and trying to contain the tremble in her fingers, "I'm El-, _Elise_."

"Sounds French," Anastasia says and cocks her head to the side "you're not from around here are you? I would've noticed such a pretty girl showing up in this part of the woods."

"Half-French," Elsa mutters, trying to keep a smile from bubbling up from the recesses of her heart, "I'm from Belgium."

"Well, you're here just in time for the festivities Belgian girl. Tomorrow, Queen Elsa's paying a visit to the least important of her provinces."

"I don't think her Majesty thinks of Finnmark that lowly-"

"Doesn't she? The ports are frozen half the year, even though we bring in so much for the Kingdom and everyone knows she's fully capable of fixing this."

Elsa's widen at the revelation, and she hides her surprise behind another long glug of Ale.

"Finnmark depends on the port for survival?" Elsa asks, coaxing more information out of her new friend.

"More than survival – we could very well bring in profits if our trade revenue wasn't being taxed so highly. At least there'd be some sort of incentive for the mercantile class to grow, but there isn't," Anastasia says, gesturing at the crowd, "instead there's all farmers and loggers here."

"Is that so?" Elsa asks.

"This could be Russia's gateway to Scandinavia if the Fjords weren't frozen all the time. My father says the ships are overladen from demand during the non-winter months."

"That's interesting," Elsa says. Her eyes wander down the lady's arms and she sucks in a gasp at the sight of Anastasia's hand perched on her knee. A warmth travels up Elsa's thigh, and her breath comes out in a foggy sputter. Once more, Elsa looks over her shoulder for Anna. She finds her in the crowd making a poor attempt at juggling a trio of fruits for a group of cackling children.

"You're a good sister," Anastasia observes, "looking out for her."

"She's n-not my sister," Elsa stammers, placing a gloved hand on Anastasia's and avoiding her gaze, "A-alice is my c-cousin."

A smirk forms on Anastasia's lips, and she nods.

"You s-saw us c-coming in together?" Elsa asks.

"It'd be hard to miss a beautiful blonde such as yourself," Anastasia whispers and runs her fingers along Elsa's cheek. They graze along her neck and Elsa's skin prickles from the touch, her breath alternating between warmth and frost.

"I s-should go," Elsa stammers as she rises from the bench, "thanks for keeping me company, I enjoyed it."

Her attempts to leave are cut off by a pair of calloused hands clutched around her elbows.

"I enjoyed myself too," Anastasia says, locking her gaze to Elsa's and dropping her voice to a whisper, "if you ever want anything else, anything at all – I live at the Kranzt farm east of the village."

The lady pulls Elsa close to her body; she touches a hand to her chest and bites her lip at the thump of Elsa's heart against her fingers.

"I'm not going to lie, it's been a long time since anyone as beautiful as yourself showed up here. You're just so delicate, so fair, so…" Anastasia lingers on her words, trailing her fingers along Elsa's arms and slipping them into the crook of her gloves. Elsa's clenches her teeth before gasping as the cold leaves her hands and streaks up along Anastasia's wrist.

"_So cold,_" she whispers into Elsa's ears.

Elsa stumbles backwards, but she's stopped by the ferocious grip of Anastasia's arm around her waist. A smirk graces the woman's lips, and the spark of desire dances in her emerald eyes. The glinting in her eyes cease, and before Elsa's mind can register anything else, electricity crackles across her lips and warmth floods across her entire body as Anastasia presses her lips to Elsa's. Despite the woman's mild inebriation, her lips taste of vanilla, and the smell of nectar floods Elsa's senses, rendering her knees weak. The tips of her fingers come alight with fire and they curl up into fists around Anastasia's dress, before pushing her away.

Anastasia touches her frost-coated lips; she chuckles at the sheen of ice melting on her fingertips and curtseys.

"Sincerest apologies for my untoward behaviour, _your Majesty,_" she says with a wink, before fleeing into the next tent.

Whirling around on her heels, Elsa barely makes out the sight of Anna running from the crowd.


	10. Chapter 10

**Warning: Contains Depictions of Incest**

* * *

With her lips frosted over from the panting she's done tiptoeing through town, Elsa hesitates at the inn where she last saw Anna's red braids disappearing into. A chill runs through her hands, she rubs them together and blows into her gloves – which only serves to turn them into icy-mittens. _Come on, Elsa – you got this. Just explain it away and she'll be fine. _But the nagging doubt in her mind remains: this is _Anna, _not some Treasury Director who's missed out on his pay. Despite Anna's professed desire for her, Elsa knows she's more likely to receive a punch in her face rather than a make-up hug.

The thoughts churning through Elsa's mind distracts her from standing on the tips of her toes; she lifts a foot off the ground when she sees the pavement turning to ice beneath her heels. Sighing, she hurries into the inn before her powers can do any further damage to the land of Finnmark.

The door jingles as it opens; Elsa holds her icy mittens behind her back and steps towards the innkeeper examining a tray of glasses beneath a kerosene lamp. He doesn't look up at the Queen as she stands before the counter.

"Excuse me, sir," Elsa says, failing to stir his attention. She clears her throat and raises her voice slightly, "did you happen to see a red-haired girl enter-"

"Room nine," he mutters, wiping the glasses without looking up. She resists the urge to ask him exactly _where _room nine is, and wanders down the corridor unassisted. Whatever light there was from the lamp at the counter quickly fades into pitch darkness as she ventures further down the corridor, until she's left feeling along the walls for guidance. A faint glow on the floor draws her gaze; she removes her gloves and traces her fingers over the label nailed into the door.

The smell of strawberries confirms Anna's presence as the door creaks open. Behind the lingering fragrance of sweetness hanging in the stuffy-warm air – the scent of salt persists. A muffled sniffle in the dimness breaks the silence, and Elsa's heart clenches at the sound.

"Anna?" Elsa whispers into the still air. The solitary, dying candle by a window fills the room with more shadows than light; in the darkness Elsa makes out a single bed with green sheets, and frost beneath her feet. With nothing but the sound of labored breathing for a reply, Elsa crosses her mittens behind her back and tiptoes towards her sister. She stops a few paces from Anna's body slouched over in a chair, and directs her frosty breath at away from her.

"You're mad at me aren't you?" Elsa asks.

"No," Anna whispers. Her voice breaks with each syllable, as though she's taking an extraordinary effort to enunciate each word above the sobs, "I'm mad _about _you, that's what's wrong. I hate myself. I hate myself. _I hate myself!_"

"Shh, Anna, it's ok," Elsa pleads, dropping to her knees before her sister and burying her face between the folds of her peasant's dress. As much as she _needs_ to cradle her sister's wet face in her hands, she keeps them folded behind her back.

"I'm obsessive, I'm needy. What kind of sick _freak_ thinks about their sister like me?" Anna says, "When I saw that _bitch_ kiss you-"

"Please, Anna. I didn't want it, she just threw herself at me and-"

"-I wanted to _kill _that fucking whore!" Anna hisses, sending Elsa's ears prickling at the language coming from her usually dainty and awkward sister.

"I wanted to hack off her head and be done with it. I don't know what to do with myself anymore! Why do you have to be so _beautiful_, so _charming_, so _perfect-_"

Anna cups her sister's face with her hands and directs Elsa's gaze towards her reddened eyes.

"-and you have every right to hate me for this."

Elsa folds back the sleeve of her dress and pulls her sister's fingers over her wrist. At once, her gloves thaw and go limp from the dampness. Anna blinks, sending a tear pattering on Elsa's wrist and joining the stream of moisture trickling down her hand.

"You've no idea what you do to me, Anna," Elsa whispers, slipping off her soaking wet gloves, "_I'm in love with you too. _We just express it differently."

Anna slides off the chair and slips herself into her sister's arms. With the sound of sniffling punctuating the silence between them, the sisters share a trembling embrace. Their blonde and red braids intertwine, but in the darkness it's hard to tell them apart.

"I l-love y-you, Elsa," Anna stutters into Elsa's hair, squeezing Elsa tight her arms, "I loved you when I wanted Hans, when I kissed Kristoff, when I fled into the woods. Every stupid thing I did, was trying to make up for having to face the reality that I'm madly and desperately in love with you."

"Please don't run from me ever again," Elsa pleads, pulling herself from Anna's arms and staring into her glistening eyes, "I came so close to losing you so many times, if it ever happens again, I can't, I just can't-"

"I won't," Anna promises, slipping her fingers into Elsa's hands, "we'll protect each other."

Their fingers twine around each other; the dampness from melted ice and shed tears mingling in a mutual promise never to let each other go. Elsa traces a finger along her sister's knuckles; she finds a scar between her third and fourth fingers.

"Does it hurt?"

"When I think about it," Anna says, "but at that moment, I knew I couldn't live without you. So in a way, it's a bitter-sweet memory."

Elsa brings her sister's hand up to her lips; frost slithers across the scar as she kisses it.

"I can't live without you too," Elsa whispers, cradling Anna's face in her hands, "_you mean everything to me._"

Without warning, Anna leans into Elsa's lips; the ferocity of her approach contrasted by the downy-cotton softness of her kiss. Elsa's hands go limp around her sister's hips, before regaining their strength and pulling her closer. _You're making a big mistake, _Elsa's conscience prickles her, but the wave of heat coursing through her face melts away all opposition in her mind. Elsa kisses her back with a fury that takes Anna by surprise, until she pulls herself away from her sister – gasping and staring into the fire she's set ablaze in the Ice Queen's eyes.

Elsa inhales the sweet scent emanating from Anna's neck and exhales against her lips, "Wow, that took us a while didn't it?"

"Too long," Anna growls and crushes her lips back into Elsa's. The force of her sister's kiss sends Elsa crumbling backwards; Anna clutches hard at her shoulders and pushes her into the floor with a thud. Her lips part to voice out a groan of pain, but they're cut off by another kiss. With nothing else left in her mind but bliss, Elsa gives up trying to _think, _bunching up her hands in Anna's hair and pulling her deeper and deeper.

Anna buries her nose beneath Elsa's chin and inhales her sister's scent. The warmth of Anna's breath against her neck sends a tingle of anticipation down her spine, even though she doesn't know exactly _what _she's hungering for. She utters a gasp and tries to think of the words to say which could exhort her sister to do that one more time, but nothing escapes her lips save for a moan. For Anna, that is confirmation enough, and she flutters her lips along Elsa's neck, eliciting more and more indiscernible pleas from her sister.

"C-christ, Anna," Elsa gasps, her hands clutched firmly around Anna's dress, "wherever did you learn to do that?"

"In my dreams and fantasies," Anna replies, grazing her lips along Elsa's collarbone, "there're some good books in the library too – if you didn't stick to geometry all the time."

She tries to think of a reply, but a fierce heat rushing up her thighs blots out every trace of reason in her mind, and she grabs hold of Anna's wrists. Anna's tenacious strength overcomes her sister's feeble attempts at preventing her hands from venturing further up her legs, and before she can protest, the warmth blossoming across her neck and thighs wins out; Elsa's hands go limp and she gives in to the ardent sensations her sister's touch evokes. An expectation begins to churn in the deepest pit of her stomach – she doesn't know exactly _what _she's anticipating, but she can't wait.

With the sound of whimpering accompanying the ruffling fabric between them, Elsa closes the gap between their lips and kisses her sister again. The salty-sweet taste of Anna's desire fills her mouth, and her entire body tingles with longing. "_More,_" she growls, grasping her sister's hips and pulling them flush between her legs. Anna yanks hard at Elsa's dress and perches herself onto her heels. With a grunt, she drags her sister off the floor and lifts her in the air, slamming her onto the bed with a force that knocks the clogs off her feet.

"_Christ, Anna, you're str-_" Elsa yelps, before she's cut off by the fiery touch of her sister's lips to her own.

With the sound of Elsa's hurried, gasping breaths urging her on, Anna leaves a smouldering trail of kisses along her sister's neck. Her dress conceals more skin than her lips are hungry to traverse, and Anna tugs at the seams, ripping the fabric. Anna reaches behind her sister and drags her nails along the row of buttons lining Elsa's dress, popping them from their stitches. Before long, Elsa's dress lies in tattered shreds on the floor, her feeble protests abandoned in favour of more kisses along her newly exposed arms and legs. Her underclothes soon follow suit; Elsa decides to undress herself and spare them from her sister's destructive hunger. She sits up and pulls away the ribbons in her hair, allowing her blonde locks to fan out behind her in a golden waterfall.

"_You're everything I've ever dreamed about,_" Anna whispers, taking in the sight of Elsa's bare body draped by the dim, pale candlelight glow. Elsa's mind tries to conjure up some form of guilt, shame, regret – at being this naked and vulnerable beneath her sister's roving gaze, but there's _nothing_ – just raging fire coursing through her veins.

Anna buries her face between her sister's breasts and she immediately reacts to the touch of her lips, arching her back and moaning deeply. The firm caress of Anna's fingers sets a fire ablaze in her chest, and she gasps her name into her hair. A squeak echoes through the room as Anna takes a nipple between her lips and kisses it to a stiff peak. Elsa's trembling fingers bunch up around her sister's dress and she fumbles with the laces on her back. The tiny knots and even tinier buttons, each take an agonizing long time to unravel; the task made even more torturous by the ever increasing intensity of Anna's kisses against her breasts_. _Elsa peels Anna's dress from her shoulders and winces as she traces her fingers over each one of the scars on her back.

Anna's fondling reaches an abrupt end as she kneels upright in bed and sheds off the entirety of her clothes. A pair of gasps fill the air as the sisters throw themselves into each other's embrace; red locks falling upon fair skin and blonde tresses slithering against freckled limbs. Elsa repays her sister by caressing her breasts, gingerly at first – before reminding herself that this is _Anna_ she's touching: slender like a steel wire and every bit as strong.

With her new-found confidence in Anna's ability to absorb as much pleasure as she's capable of giving, the sisters roam their curious hands and hungry lips all over each other's bodies. Anna leaves trail of feather-light touches as she traces a path with her fingers down Elsa's waist, and her eyes widen as she looks down and sees the silhouette of her sister's hand heading towards her private parts. Elsa crosses her legs instinctively but Anna pries them apart like they were held together by nothing at all. A blush consumes her entire body as she realises how _vulnerable, _how _naked, _how _bare _she is, laid out – wet and throbbing before her own sister.

And _begging _to be touched.

She clutches her sister's wrist and arches her back, uttering a piercing groan as Anna seeks out the little pulsating gem hidden between her folds. Elsa knows what Anna's doing; she's done it to herself on rainy nights in her room when the lonely chill became too much to bear and she just _needed _to feel _something, anything. _She'd sprawl herself out amongst scattered architectural drawings and stroke her lithe fame until she bit into the pillows and screamed, her climax merely a bitter reminder of how trapped she was in her own room. She was always consumed by guilt after that, but right now, the touch of Anna's fingers to her sweet spot and her firm, gentle caresses whisked away any thoughts that this felt anything but blissfully right.

With the sweat on her sister's slick arms and her own slippery fingers rendering her grip less and less effective, Elsa gives in to the fire tearing through her body and allows Anna to slip a finger into her. She bites down on her lips and screws her eyes shut as a burst of numbing bliss surges through her body, followed immediately by a crackling wave of pleasure that touches every fiber of her being.

"Oh god, Fuck! Christ, Anna!" Elsa sputters, holding her breath in before gasping violently.

Anna pauses her ministrations and stares her sister in the eyes. A smirk forms on her lips and she continues fingering her sister.

"I think I like this side of you, Elsa," Anna whispers, watching with glee as her sister's face contorts more and more with each thrust of her fingers, "I mean, I love the other sides to your personality, but this one's a refreshing sight."

"I n-never showed it," Elsa gasps, "it's great to finally let it go."

Elsa senses that her sister's coherent thoughts remains something to be dealt with; she reaches down between her legs and seeks out her innermost place. Slick with sweat and the nectar of arousal, her fingers come away shimmering with wetness, and she lifts them to the light – almost unbelieving of what she's done to her sister.

"_You turn me on,_" Anna growls, wrapping her fingers around Elsa's wrist and dragging it back between her legs.

Elsa ignores the pounding sensation in her hips as she slips a finger into her sister. Anna yelps in response, and grimaces at the sensation of being fingered. Despite the pain evident on her face, it quickly dissolves into a beaming smile, and her moans convince Elsa to continue her thrusting.

She found it easy to pleasure her sister; touching Anna was as easy as it was to touch herself. Despite her eagerness to please Anna, the pounding in her loins reaches a fevered pitch, and the white-hot orb of pleasure within herself makes concentrating on anything impossible. She screws her eyes shut and bucks her hips against Anna's hand as the tidal wave inside her continues to surge. Each thrust of Anna's fingers inside her now feels like a red-hot poker of unadulterated bliss jamming itself in amongst the smouldering coals of her body.

"Oh my-, fuck-, Anna!" Elsa cries out, tightening her grip on her sister's wrist, "_Fuck, you're killing me!_"

Every muscle in her body contracts as the tide brims over and envelopes her body in a wave of pleasure. She arches her hips against Anna's hand and curls her toes into the sheets. Anna leans in and kisses her sister; despite the sweat coating her trembling lips, they're unresponsive to Anna's kiss, and amidst their feverish trembling they make a feeble attempt at mumbling something.

"_Don't stop,_" Elsa begs, holding onto Anna's fingers inside her as the aftershocks pulsate through her body.

"You look hot when you come," Anna teases, holding out her finger, slick with her sister's arousal, in front of her face.

"H-hot was n-never my thing," Elsa stammers, returning her fingers to between Anna's legs, "I could help you, um, finish? I mean I don't mind – actually I want to help-"

Anna leans in and kisses her, a smirk gracing her face as they part. "I think we can do better than that," she says, hauling Elsa's limp, trembling body upright against the wall. Anna pulls a thigh over hers, and shifts her hips closer to her sister. With barely an inch of space between them, she closes the gap and utters a sigh as their lips touch. Anna bites on her lower lip and bucks her hips against her sister, and Elsa clings onto her shoulders for support.

Elsa leans back and lets her sister take her as hard as she can. Not because she's submissive, but because she knows Anna had been wanting this for a long time coming – her sweat-glazed eyes screwed shut and tousled hair flung back as she moaned her sister's name in ecstasy were evidence enough.

"_Fuck!"_ Anna cries, pinning her sister's shoulders onto the wall as she picks up her pace. Elsa's attempts at slipping her arms around Anna's waist are met with a vice-like grip on her elbows jamming them against the wall. She tightens her clutch as her rabid pants deteriorate into sputtered gasps. The pleasure begins churning again in Elsa's belly; lighter this time, despite the ferocity of Anna's lovemaking.

"Anna, you're hurting me," Elsa whimpers, her arms going numb from her sister's grip.

Elsa gives up trying to feel her fingers; she's lost all sensation in her body save for the expectant throbbing in her hips and the grating pain of Anna's teeth biting into her shoulders. Anna sputters a few indiscernible syllables, before her entire body tenses in a maddening wave of heat that blossoms across her skin. The bliss of Anna's climax is so evident that the sight of it brings a tear to Elsa's eyes; she doesn't know which is better – her own one or _knowing_ she gave her sister one.

"Anna," Elsa pleads, "let go of my arms."

"…_what?_" Anna gasps, her bare chest heaving and glistening sweat beneath the candle's dim glow.

She looks down at her fingers wrapped round Elsa's purple arms like a snake around its prey, and gasps, "Oh, God, I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Elsa says, flexing her fingers and feeling the circulation return to her now-freed arms. She knows it'll bruise in the morning, but doesn't say anything – still relishing in the smell of intoxicating sex wafting through the air, and the touch of Anna's lips to hers as they kiss each other's sweat-stained lips. The feeling of her sister's lips parting from hers creates a void in her; the aching intensified by an unsated hunger brought upon by Anna's lovemaking. Elsa slithers a finger between her legs, and slips it into herself in an attempt to satisfy her longing.

"Oh no you don't," Anna snarls, plucking her finger away and replacing it with hers, "_you're mine._"

"You're mine too," Elsa smiles into her chin and slips a finger into Anna, "together?"

With one hand draped around her sister's hip and the other tucked between her legs, Elsa lets out a groan as Anna drags her hips away from the wall and leans her entire bodyweight on her. The sisters share a kiss as their fingers find each other's cores, and the gasping filling the space between them soon turns into gentle moans. Eventually, they find a rhythm: hips bucking against fingers and lips pursing around bits of exposed skin.

Elsa kisses away at Anna's freckle- and sweat-lined breasts as she tries to keep up with the pace of her sister's movements. The deep, velvety pool of unsatisfied lust from earlier hasn't left, and it grows with every thrust of Anna's fingers, threatening to brim over and overflow onto her every muscle. But Elsa holds on, waiting for the moment that her sister's face will contort and signal her impending climax.

When it does, Anna bunches up her hands around the sheets instead of her sister's slender arms, and Elsa lets go of the longing building up inside her, screaming out Anna's name into the plume of red slung over her shoulders.

"Fuck," Anna gasps, slumping into Elsa's arms, still shaking from the waves of pleasure ripping through her body.

Elsa slides her sister off her body and follows after her with a kiss. After panting away the heady euphoria aching in her head, her vision returns, and the sight of Anna's freckled, flushed face swimming into focus brings a smirk to her lips. She's never seen her like this: wild, unbridled, with an almost _violent _lust seeping out of her every pore. Despite her penchant for orderliness and decorum, Anna's untamed display of her passion touched the part of her heart kept locked away for so long. _It_ _turned her on more than any thought or fantasy ever could. _

"That wasn't your first time was it?" Elsa whispers, twirling a lock of her sister's hair between her fingers.

Anna looks down at Elsa's collarbones, still flushed from sex, and whispers, "_No._"

"It's ok," Elsa whispers, pressing a kiss to her lips, "I loved it."

"Probably not what you were expecting huh?"

"No, I don't think you expected this out of me either."

"Elsa listen–" Anna whispers, the tremble evident on her lips, "I just want you to know that, um, I hope this kinda…doesn't change anything between us."

"It won't," Elsa answers, grasping her sister's hand, "I loved you, and I'll always love you. You had me from the moment you sacrificed yourself."

Anna traces along the curve of her sister's lips, "and you had me from the moment you first smiled."

Elsa takes Anna's finger into her mouth, and savors her own salty-sweet taste.

Anna wipes the sheen of sweat lining her forehead and asks, "Elsa, could you lower the temperature in here? It's kinda…warm."

With a chuckle, Elsa chills her skin and pulls Anna into her arms.

"Better now?"

Anna buries her face into Elsa chest, and breathes in her sister's fragrance; the same scent she stole sniffs from when they shared rooms as children. Despite the chill emanating from Elsa's skin, a warmth blossoms from the depths of Anna's heart and spreads across her entire being. With a sigh, she slips her arms around Elsa's waist and surrenders herself to the comfort of her embrace, breathing a last word from her lips as she drifts off to sleep.

"_It's Perfect_."


	11. Chapter 11

Elsa's hair drapes her shoulders in a river of undulating blonde tresses; she blows a lock from her eyes and focuses on putting the final touches to a snow-pigeon in her hands. Beside her, a mess of matted red hair glows beneath the morning sun; it heaves softly with each breath Anna takes, like the last flickering of a wood fire needing to be stoked.

She diverts her attention from the motionless bird and peers at a ray of sunlight shining directly into Anna's closed eyes, still stirring in her sleep. Elsa purses her lips and blows a breath of snow on her creation, smiling as its wings flutter to life and coos into the warm air. She shifts her weight from the bed carefully and creaks open the window by an inch.

"You know where to go," Elsa whispers into its feathers, pointing at the naval ensigns fluttering from ships' masts gathering in Finnmark's harbour, "fly along now, little one."

Elsa slips back into bed and folds her arms on the pillow; she takes her time to study each freckle on her sister's face. With sleep still heavy on her eyes and last night's memories poignant in her mind, her gaze trails along Anna's neck and upon her freckle-lined shoulders. A smirk forms on her lips as she blows a frosty breath on Anna's face.

Anna shudders awake and wipes away the ice forming on her face. With the sun still bearing down on her eyes, she slumps back into bed, but her fingers find Elsa's.

"You always did that to me when we shared rooms," Anna mutters as she draws circles in Elsa's palm.

"We're women now, and you still can't find it in you to rise before dawn," Elsa mumbles, combing her fingers through Anna's dishevelled hair.

"You woke me," Anna slurs, forcing her eyes open, "I was having a good dream,"

"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt-"

"It's alright," Anna whispers, trailing her fingers along Elsa's face as she gazes into her sister's eyes, "I woke up into a better one."

Elsa smiles; she tips her sister's lips to hers and wakes her up with a kiss. Nothing has changed from last night: the same salty-sweet taste of desire in Anna's lips, the same heat she sends flushing through Elsa's face, and the same strawberry breath she exhales so elegantly despite her unkempt appearance.

"I don't ever want to wake from this dream," Elsa whispers against Anna's lips.

"You look…beautiful with your hair down," Anna says, "I mean you look stunning with it up, but this is…a different sort of pretty."

Elsa looks at the red mane sprouting from her sister's head and chuckles, "Alright then, let's tidy each other up."

With only one brush between them, the sisters take turns to brush and braid each other's hair. Elsa winces at the firmer-than-usual tugs of the brush, and Anna takes longer than the royal hairdresser to get her hair done. But when her sister's finished, she's positive her crown braid mimics the regal look she carries on her best days.

Elsa lends her sister some underclothes, and helps tie the laces on the back of a royal dress. Anna stares at the tattered remains of Elsa's dress on the floor, and bites on her lower lip.

"I'm sorry about that," she whispers and runs her fingers along the bruises on Elsa's arms, "and this too."

"You're feisty in bed aren't you?" Elsa quips, pulling on a chemise, "I like that side of you."

The Queen rises from the bed and touches a finger to her shoulders. At once, frost crackles across her pale skin and spreads across her entire body. Layer upon layer of inter-woven ice linings fall upon each other in a powdery crescendo of snowflakes fluttering off her body and melting away in the warm air. The sleet settles, and Elsa stands clad in an elaborate ice-gown, complete with long, opaque sleeves and ice slippers adorning her feet.

"Woah," Anna says with her jaw hanging wide open, "that is…something! I'll probably never get tired of watching you get dressed!"

With Elsa's gown done, Anna settles her gaze upon the crown sitting on the dresser table.

"So, you have to be the Queen today, huh?" Anna says, looking down at her feet.

"Yes," Elsa answers, studying the expression on her sister's face, "but..."

The downcast look on Anna's face causes Elsa's chest to clench; she picks up her crown and places it on her sister's head.

"You can be the Queen for today, if you like," Elsa says.

"Of course not," Anna scowls, plucking the crown from her hair and tucking it into Elsa's braid, "the title belongs to you."

"Listen, Anna," Elsa whispers, crawling into bed with her sister. With a finger poised on Anna's chin, she tips her face up and trails a hand against her face. The sisters lock eyes as Elsa touches a finger to the centre of Anna's head, sending a burst of cold spreading across her hair. Anna gasps at the frost and leaps to a dust-coated mirror.

"Oh my god, Elsa!" Anna exclaims, touching the ornate ice-tiara Elsa had crafted into her hair. Fashioned from transparent, gleaming ice and studded with snowflakes, the piece rivals the actual Arendelle crown in opulence.

"It's beautiful!" Anna gasps with widened eyes as she studies her reflection in the mirror. Elsa spreads her palm over her sister's head and showers a coating of ice-crystals on the crown, giving the impression of a diamond-encrusted layer. Mesmerised by the tiara's splendour, Anna fails to notice her sister slipping her arms from behind; the cold from Elsa's gown causes her to jolt.

"I have to be the Queen of Arendelle; this was a duty passed down from our Parents, and I owe the Kingdom my service," Elsa whispers into her sister's hair, "_but you will always be the Queen of my heart_."

Anna whirls around within her sister's grasp and crushes her lips into Elsa's. The force takes her by surprise and she staggers backwards on her ice-heels; but when she regains her balance – she kisses her sister back without a shred of hesitation lingering on her lips.

"_I love you,_" Anna whispers against Elsa's lips, "even if we are more than sisters now."

"Nothing could be greater than what we share as sisters," Elsa says, gingerly resting her hand on Anna's chest, "if you search your heart deep enough, you'll know what it really was that made you save me at the Fjord."

Anna's eyes widen, and her lips part with a multitude of words ready to roll off her tongue.

"Shh, you don't have to tell me anything now," Elsa says, pressing a finger to her lips, "are you ready to go?"

With a firm nod, Anna slips her fingers into Elsa's, and they venture outside. At the sight of Elsa and Anna striding from their room decked in royal clothes and crowns gleaming in the morning light, the innkeeper falls off his stool and staggers towards the Royal siblings with his head bowed.

"Your Majesty," he pleads, "forgive my lack of-"

"Save it," Elsa scowls, pressing a pair of gold coins into his hand, "I had meant for my appearance to deceive after all."

The crisp, fall breeze greets them as they descend the inn's steps and enter the awaiting royal carriage. An ominous overcast has settled upon Finnmark's skies; these are beyond the reach of the Queen's powers. Despite everything she's done this morning, Elsa looks at the sky and wonders if she has the strength to face the test that stands before her.

* * *

Standing on the dock, Elsa clenches her fists and repeats herself over the sloshing of seawater.

"I'm sorry, w_hat did you say?"_

The Admiral; a tall, lanky man wearing a blazer two sizes too big to accommodate the host of medals pinned on his chest, looks away and answers, "Due to the nature of this exercise, we humbly request her Highness Princess Anna to remain onshore during the proceedings for her own safety as she is not acquainted with the militaristic nature of war."

Anna stands a foot away from Elsa, her eyes rolling about with the motion of the jolly boat tied to the pier.

Elsa furrows her brows and continues, "I don't get why-"

"Elsa, it's alright, I'll watch from the shore," Anna says, clutching at her stomach, "I don't think I really want to get into..um..small boats anyway. I...y'know…had a bad experience once."

"Are you sure?" Elsa asks, grasping her sister's shoulders and trying to shake the slate-grey colour from her face. It takes several firm throttles for Anna to return her gaze to Elsa's.

"Yes!" Anna says, forcing a weak smile at her sister, "I'll…um…see you in a bit?"

"Hey, I'll be back before you know it, alright?" Elsa answers, slipping on a pair of gloves, "We could even be back in time for supper at the Palace."

Anna's smile intensifies as she looks into her sister's eyes. With the Admiral and curious citizens looking on, she stands on the tips of her toes and kisses her sister's nose.

"Stay safe, dear sister," Anna says, throwing herself into Elsa's arms, "I won't move an inch until you come back."

Snowflakes peel from Elsa's skin as she steps into the boat and the men row her towards Arendelle's fleet anchored in the Fjord. Despite the heaving and rolling of the boat with the waves, Elsa remains standing – her eyes fixed on the solitary glint of crystal sitting on a head of red. She keeps looking, even as Anna's figure fades in with the shore, and the oars freeze solid in their rowers' hands.

* * *

The clipper's crew stands to attention and bows as the Queen appears on deck. Elsa strides to the starboard bulwark and stares at the green plains before her, aligned to face the fleet for maximum visual impact. The entire battalion of artillery pieces from Arendelle's armoury has been deployed for the trials, and they face westwards across an immense, flat open plain. Elsa turns and notices a different ship anchored portside, not belonging to the Kingdom's fleet; she frowns and tries to remember exactly _where_ she last saw that distinct olive branch crest. A chill surges through her bones as the memories filter back.

"Admiral," Elsa hisses, frosting over his epaulettes with her breath, "could you explain to me exactly _why _a ship from the Southern Isles is anchored off our portside?"

He clears his throat and explains, "Diplomacy by deterrence, your Majesty. If all goes well, they'll be terrified by the full might of your powers and give us more favourable terms during, um, future trade negotiations."

"I don't remember giving permission to-, oh forget it. Are we ready to conduct the trials?"

"Certainly!" he snaps his fingers at a slender man in glasses from the Royal Society of London.

The scientist unfurls a scroll onto a makeshift rostrum and announces, "Trial number one: Land warfare, exposure to artillery barrage not exceeding one battalion of 24-pounder batteries firing round and canister shot."

Elsa removes her gloves and shuts her eyes. She clenches her teeth and holds her breath as a snowy wind picks up around her and whips away at her cape. Holding out her hands, the snowstorm circulates around her palms and materialises itself into a giant snowball. The miniature blizzard whipping up the tackle above deck sends the sails fluttering upon their masts, and the crew covers their faces with the thick winter jackets they've prepared. Elsa stands back on her heels and punches the snowball, sending it hurtling towards the plains. The white globe grows as it picks up speed, leaving a howling blizzard billowing in its wake.

With a diameter now similar to a large house, the snowball slams into the ground several miles from the cannons and shatters into a multitude of other snowballs. The largest of them rolls to a halt, before quivering in its place. With a loud rumble, it cracks open and hatches a gargantuan snow bear: standing nine feet tall, and clad in spiky ice-armour, it wields an ice-mace with the ease of a gladiator. The bear unleashes a roar that can be heard from the fleet, and the other snowballs begin hatching snow bears.

A chorus of growling echoes across the plains as the snow bears move into formation behind their leader. Numbering ten bears for every cannon staring them down across the plain, they form rank and file with the discipline of a conventional military unit. The lead bear unleashes a roar that shakes the earth beneath its feet, and the bears mount a charge across the plains, tearing up the soil with their razor-sharp ice-claws.

Arendelle's army General, a muscular man with broad shoulders despite his greying hair, orders the artillery to open fire; a flag is hoisted on the lead ship's mast, and the battalion unleashes a barrage of deafening cannon-fire.

The plains erupt in a devastating maelstrom of grass and soil as the cannon balls shred through the earth. With one barrage failing to meet its target, and with the stampeding bears approaching the halfway mark – the gun crews adjust their sightings and reload for another salvo. This time, the hail of cannon fire tears right into the heart of the charge – ripping apart bears and scattering plumes of snow upon the plain.

The Admiral hands Elsa a telescope, and she peers down the lens at the mock battle playing out before her. A smirk forms on her lips as she observes the shredded bears morphing into snow wolves and continuing their charge on the batteries. She parts her gaze from the battlefield and gestures at the scientist, furiously scribbling away while an officer provides live commentary via another telescope.

"Make sure you get all that down," Elsa commands. The ship's crew and Arendelle's military delegation cram themselves against the railings, eager to watch how the battle plays out.

With less than half a mile left for Elsa's snow wolves to close in on the artillery, the gun crews switch to canister shots for their third barrage. Unlike the bears, the snow wolves barely resemble any conventional cavalry charge known to man, descending upon the guns in their hundreds. The horde of chaotic, disorganized howling comes to a quick end as the canister salvo slams into its body – exploding into deadly clouds of shrapnel and shredding apart their bodies in a roaring crescendo of flame, metal and snow.

The General smirks at the sight of snow dust settling upon the plains beneath the haze of cannon-fire.

"Your Majesty," he sneers, lowering his telescope, "it appears my artillery has routed your charge."

Elsa's maintains a steely expression as she raises the telescope to her eyes.

"General, it appears your gun crews are abandoning their positions."

Scowling, the General peers through the telescope again. A veteran of numerous battles across continental Europe; the blood drains from his face when he sees the layer of sleet morphing into a million snow rats and descending upon the cannons in a thick swarm. A few batteries maintain their positions in defiance, bottoming out their guns and blasting away at the rats with grapeshot. But sense overwhelms their courage as they realise it'll take all the gunpowder in the world to put a scratch in the multitude of snow rats crawling into their cannon barrels and freezing them solid.

Left defenceless, the gun crews retreat to the command battery. A white flag flutters over the sight of a million snow rats gnawing away at the guns.

"Trial number one completed," the scientist announces, still writing on the rostrum, "Arendelle forfeits!"

A weak cheer breaks out amongst the sailors and officers present. Despite their excitement at watching the Queen's powers in action – they know she will be the cause of the military's disbandment, forcing a change to their livelihoods.

"I guess you win then," the General shrugs, handing the telescope back to the Admiral.

"You're missing the point, this isn't a competition," Elsa says, "but regardless, can we start the next trial?"

"Of course!" the Admiral answers, gesturing at the ship's portside. The ship lists slightly as everyone above deck shifts over to the port bulwark, keen to see what will happen to the empty hulk of a ship anchored a mile away.

"Trial number two," the scientist announces, "Naval warfare: empty ship, time taken for sinking with no resistance."

The ship's chronometer is brought out and laid upon the rostrum. Elsa extends a telescope and examines the ship: with paint peeling from her side and gaping holes littered across her hull – to say she had seen better days would've been an understatement. Her mast creaks loudly as it sways in the wind, and Elsa tells herself she'll be doing a favour by putting her out of her misery.

Elsa detaches a snowflake peeling from her hair and takes hold of it between her slender fingers. She leans over the railings and extends her hand towards the sea. Her chest heaves as she inhales, and with a snow-lined breath – the snowflake flutters into the wind, sparkling as it flutters through the air. It drifts towards the water's surface, flipping and twirling beneath the noon sun and melting away like the last frost giving way to spring. With the solemnity of a church service, the audience holds its breath as the snowflake lands on the water with nary a sound. Unlike ordinary snowflakes, this one sinks – and the sigh of relief is palpable amidst the silence.

The Admiral scoffs at the calm waters before him, and the intact ship in the distance.

"Wait, what, _that was it_?"

Elsa lifts her eyes to the horizon; a breeze whips through her ice-cape, and she waits. The ticking of the ship's chronometer punctuates the silence, along with the squawking of seagulls as they settle upon the abandoned ship's stern. A fain rumble resonates in the distance – so soft and low it would've been lost if the breeze was blowing a little harder. The wooden deck creaks as it vibrates, and the ship lists as the crest of a shallow wave rocks the hull.

All of a sudden, a gushing roar rips through the air as the abandoned ship is lifted high into the air upon a fountain of spray and foam. The men recoil from the bulwark as the water gives way to reveal a snow whale towering over the waves with the wreck of a ship clenched firmly in its jaws. For a moment, the enormity of the whale blots out the sun and casts a shadow upon the fleet. With a violent crunch, the whale snaps its jaws shut and cleaves the hull cleanly in two, eliciting a chorus of delirious exclamations from the men on board.

As quickly as it tore through the hulk, the whale disappears into the sea, leaving the halved wreck sinking into the waters amidst a multitude of bubbles frothing the surface. Elsa clings to the railing as the aftershock slams into the ship and rocks it violently. She looks over at the scientist, with his jaw hanging open and quill rolling off the rostrum.

"Oh, would you stop the time already?" she points at the chronometer, "I think that counts as a sinking!"

The Queen's voice snaps him out of his daze, and he slams his hand upon the clock.

"Trial number two completed," the scientist announces, "Ship sunk in time: thirty-seven seconds!"

No cheer accompanies his announcement, only silence from sleet-faced men staring in disbelief at the empty spot where a ship once laid.

Elsa slips on her gloves and turns to the Admiral, "I think we've had enough violence for today, don't you think?"

He nods slowly, grimacing at the sight of the ship's bowsprit disappearing beneath the waves.

"Your Majesty, we will conduct the debriefing of today's trials together with the chiefs of staff on board the HMAS _Norge._"

At the mention of the ship's name, the Queen's flashes a look of indignation at the Admiral, before striding off upon a plane of ice.

* * *

Elsa's heart clenches as the men row her towards the _Norge_: the lead ship of a class which was originally meant to encompass a fleet of seven warships; Elsa's parents had died on board the only other ship which was built. Like Elsa and Anna were left behind by the deaths of Arendelle's King and Queen, the HMAS _Norge _became synonymous with the mourning of their deaths; the sole sister ship of a wreck forever lost to the raging seas. After their passing, she was elevated to an honorary status as the flagship of Arendelle's Navy, and accorded the prestige of carrying what's left of the Royal Family; a privilege Elsa had refused until today.

Her shoulders shudder as the ship's crew lower the gangway for her; she imagines her parents boarding an identical plank of wood to their deaths – entirely without knowledge or anticipation.

"Your Majesty," the General announces, "you may embark the ship."

The gangway turns to ice as she hitches her gown above her ankles and boards. Despite the Arendelle flag fluttering from its mast, and the soldiers clad in ceremonial armour – _something _about this ship turns Elsa's blood cold.

The General and Admiral follow closely after Elsa, ignoring the ice sprouting beneath her feet; they look at each other as Elsa hesitates on the deck.

"T-The meeting will be held in the officer's wardroom," the General says, rubbing his throat and trying to rid the strain in his voice.

"Please, follow us this way," the Admiral says and directs Elsa below the deck.

Unable to shake the ominous atmosphere making her skin crawl, she follows the men without question. The main passageway had been swept clean in anticipation of the Queen's visit; its orderliness accompanied by a distinct lack of sailors or guards of any sort. Elsa's hair stands on end as she passes a room marked 'Royal Cabin', likely identical to the one her parents drowned in their sleep.

The General and Admiral notice Elsa's distraction, and they allow their steps to falter, walking behind her for the last several paces as she approaches the wardroom. With the thought of her parents' deaths weighing heavily on her mind, she opens the door without hesitating, and gasps as the sight of men already gathered around the meeting table.

The two rows of twelve men rise without bowing, with one standing at the head of the table. Bearing neither deference in their eyes nor humility, they scowl at Elsa with clenched fists. One man leans his head past the rows with a smile plastered on his face; he flashes his teeth at Elsa and waves. A chill surges through her entire body and sleet flakes from her skin as his crop of reddish hair comes into view. She would've noticed that all-too-perfect smile flanked with fiery sideburns anywhere.

_You never forget the people who come this close to taking your life away. _

The sound of clanking distracts Elsa from the ice forming on her gloves; she whirls around and barely registers the sight of a pair of gauntlets chained to shackles – right before the General smashes them across her skull with a sickening crack.


	12. Chapter 12

The sting of acrid, black smoke burns its way down Elsa's throat and she coughs herself awake in a choking sputter. Immediately, the pounding in her head makes an appearance, and with every throb – searing pain courses its way through her limbs and sets every one of nerves on fire. _Blood, _she mutters as her eyes flutter open, _oh no. _A stream of scarlet stains her clothes: a thick swaddling of sackcloth and blankets. She coughs up soot from her lungs, sending more blood dripping from her nose.

The scarlet plummets towards her knee like the last leaf falling from an autumn tree, and when it slops onto the fabric – the memories smash into her head faster than a cannonball. _Anna. Sex. Military. Hans. General. Betrayed. _With pain ripping through her arms, Elsa snaps her head up and gasps at the sight before her; now she can add _fire _to her list of words. An industrial furnace roars before her eyes, blurring the air with its ferocious heat; its open jaws look like the gateway to Hades itself – flames flickering and licking every trace of ash and grime from its black metal. As if the furnace wasn't enough to _boil _the very air in the cell, two rows of brazier troughs hold piles of grey coals – radiating a blistering heat that melts the very walls holding her captive.

The heat burns into her face like a firestorm; unable to bear the infernal temperature searing into her eyeballs, she tilts away and chokes one more time, and the clanking echoes in her ears like a funeral bell. Lifting her hands before her, Elsa discovers the source of the fiery pain tearing into her fingers: iron gauntlets shackled around her hands. Elsa pulls away at the metal and gasps as the chains drag across the floor, forming a metal trail directly into the furnace. The links nearest to the blazing inferno glow white-hot beneath the flicker of the furnace's fire, and they fade into a cherry-red glow.

In a fit of panic, Elsa yanks away at the chains and attempts to stand, stumbling back onto the floor as another pair of shackles dig into her ankles. The blood around her knees begin to boil as she realizes they've kept her kneeling for what must've been hours on end. She regains her composure and tries to make sense of her surroundings. The slight tilting of the floor suggests she's imprisoned onboard a ship, although the nausea and constant throbbing pain in her head hints that she really could be _anywhere. _

Her sanity begins to unravel at the hopelessness of her situation. "_Help!_" Elsa shrieks. The hoarse, croaking sound bubbling up from her parched throat feels like she's coughing out sand, and she reconsiders making another plea for help.

"Can I help you?" a deep voice snarls behind her.

A huge man with greying hair steps into Elsa's view; from the signet ring on his finger – she immediately recognizes him: King Adolphus of the Southern Isles; the eldest of fourteen who masterminded a coup against his own parents which left them slaughtered in cold blood. A brief civil war followed his assent to the throne, leaving scores of citizens dead and his power firmly consolidated under the fearful support of his brothers. Elsa recalled watching the boats overladen with refugees from her window as a young girl, and her parents' trembling explanations about how royalty in other Kingdoms _really _worked.

"Please, get this off me," Elsa pleads, holding up her chains to his knees, "it-"

"It burns?" Adolphus chuckles, picking up a hefty chunk of firewood and tossing it into the furnace, "Haven't experienced that before huh?"

He lowers himself to Elsa's height and wipes at the layer of sweat and ash plastered to her forehead. Sweat drips from the King's chin and splatters on her gauntlets; a smirk forms on his face as the moisture hisses against the searing-hot metal.

"Why are you keeping me here?" Elsa asks, pulling on the shackles and trying to inch her face away from the King.

"Because I can," he replies, running a gloved hand across her cheek. The touch of leather to Elsa's face sends goosebumps prickling along her sweat-stained skin, and she jerks her head away from him.

"And also, I need some things from you before I dispose of your wretched life," Adolphus scowls.

"You..what?"

"Did you dump the crown in a pig's pen or what? I'm sure Anna would hate having to wear such a tarnished and hideous-looking piece of-"

Elsa's eyes widen at her sister's name, "What did you do with Anna?" she exclaims.

"Oh don't worry, there won't be a hair harmed on your precious sister's head. We need her intact for your throne. As for you, however…"

Adolphus slams a hand around Elsa's throat and tightens his grasp, eliciting a muffled squeal from her throat, "you'll die in pieces if you don't tell me where the Royal seal and Signet ring are."

Her mind flutters back to the tweed-cotton bag she's left by Anna's feet at the pier, and she sputters out, "I'm not telling you anything."

The relief of Adolphus loosening his grip fades away into a crackling pain across her cheekbone. Her left eye throbs violently when she opens it, and she gasps at the sight of blood and tears on the floor. The shock of being struck across the face for the first time in her life is dented immediately when Adolphus grabs Elsa by the hair and yanks her head back so far she thinks her neck will snap any moment.

"I could do this all day," he grins as Elsa's neck creaks further backwards and tears stream from her eyes, "you'll forget your name, your sister's name, your parents' name, by the time I'm done with you. _Anna will forget your name._"

Elsa groans under his grip with the words '_no, she won't' _sputtering from her lips, but it's hard to when her neck is ready to fracture.

"You'll roast to death in this oven, and Arendelle will forget you ever existed – your legacy, wiped off the face of this earth. No one will remember you-"

With her fists clenched in their metal prisons and her windpipe fraying beneath the pressure, Elsa grits her teeth and hisses, "_I'm not like you!" _

Stars cross her eyes as Adolphus slams her head into the floor. By the time she looks up from the pool of blood leaking out her nose, the cell door has slammed shut behind his stomping feet, leaving Elsa curled up on the wooden planks whimpering Anna's name. Despite her age and the helplessness of her situation, Elsa knows full well the game in play here. After all – it's happened to at least a dozen other monarchs across Europe: the military or an enemy state launches a coup on the reigning King or Queen, executing them in as vicious of a way as possible and installing a younger sibling on the throne as a puppet.

_"Come on," _Elsa mutters, focusing her thoughts on Anna and trying to direct as much of her energy into the shackles. The searing hot metal cools slightly around her quivering hands; for a brief second she imagines seeing a snowflake appear on the gauntlets, but it fades away into the roaring furnace heat.

"That won't be much help here," a voice scowls behind her.

She'd never imagine cold could exist in an infernal room like this – but a chill surges through her spine and her blood turns to ice at his voice.

"_No, oh no,_" Elsa whispers, the words barely audible above the crackling coals. Her hands hang limp by her side and she drops her gaze to the floor in defeat. Gone is the smooth, confident intonation of Han's words, now just a drawl dripping with malice. A gloved hand holds out a bottle beneath her nose and Elsa recoils from the stench of chloroform.

"_Where is Anna?_" Elsa hisses, yanking at the chains and lurching towards the silhouette of Hans strolling to the coals.

Hans holds a handkerchief to his face and pours a steady stream of chloroform onto the hissing coals. A cloud of steam rises from the ashes and fills the room in a sickly scent. Elsa looks away and tries to hold her breath, but the smell possesses a will of its own, invading her nostrils and saturating her brain with sleep. Even beneath his covered face, she sees a smirk dancing in his eyes as he watches her eyes start to close. The last thing she notices before completely passing out are his green eyes narrowing to slits barely an inch before her – and a muffled voice rife with hatred.

_"Before she takes your place, I'm going to relish fucking your sister like the whore she is."_


	13. Chapter 13

With the glow on the horizon staining the fjords a fiery orange, the red-headed princess sits on the dock and stares at her reflection in the water. She touches the ice on her crown and sighs again when her fingers come away with more moisture. All hope of being back in the palace for supper had now been lost; it's been more than seven hours since she last saw Elsa, or any evidence of her presence. The buzz of activity which took place onboard the ships fades into a stiff quiet as the crews settle down for the evening watch, and whatever interest Anna took in the field trials quickly becomes a gnawing worry about Elsa's wellbeing.

Accustomed to speaking to inanimate objects during bouts of loneliness, her reflection provides a much needed companion to soothe the rising ache in her heart.

"Perhaps she's been served her supper on the ships, and there's no way for her to send for me, or she _really _took me seriously when I said I'd get seasick," Anna mutters to herself, wondering if she should've followed Elsa. For an answer – all she receives is the swaying of masts in the distance, and the never-ending creak of wooden hulls as they bob with the outgoing tide.

Anna adjusts the crown on her hair, sending a trickle of water trailing down the side of her face. Despite being inexplicably half-melted, the tiara has lost none of its glimmer beneath the setting sun. As the last rim of orange descends over the sea, a pale disc of white ascends over the hills, bringing with it an ominous silence as seagulls depart the ships to roost on the beach. In the distance, Anna barely makes out a boat being lowered from the HMAS _Norge._

"They're lowering the launch!" Anna exclaims to her reflection, "She's coming back!"

The princess leaps to her feet and strains her eyes through the dimly-lit fog. She knows not why the ship crews have vacated the upper decks, or why the Arendelle ensigns have all been lowered from the masts, or why the standing army on the plains have vanished into the night – all she sees is the solitary boat sloshing through the fog at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Elsa is coming back!" Anna gasps, peering into the fog and trying to pick out the glint of Elsa's crown that will set everything right in her life. As the boat passes beneath the hull of another ship, it emerges from the shadow and betrays a shimmer when it slips beneath the moonlight. Anna's eyes light up at the sparkle, and her lips curl into a smile as she imagines how the long hours of waiting would pay themselves off the moment she gets to throw herself into Elsa's arms again.

The boat picks up speed as it nears the dock, and Anna stands at the very edge of the planks, bobbing up and down on her toes with glee. However, the grin on her face slowly melts into a grimace as she counts two _men_ in the boat, and another one seated behind them rowing. The boat approaches a stone's throw, and a clenching sensation presses into her heart when she spots Elsa's crown lying on a red pillow. The pain sends causes her knees to give way, and she clutches onto the pillar for support

"_No,_" Anna gasps, and tears spring from her eyes as the thought of her sister's cold, lifeless body being buried next to her parents slams into her head faster than she can _think. _

The boat reaches the jetty with a gentle thump, sending Anna falling over backwards and edging away from the soldiers on her hands and hips. Amidst her wide-eyed horror and hyperventilation, the crown, slick with melted ice, slips from her hair and shatters into pieces on the wood.

"_No, no!_" she shrieks, dragging her nails through the broken ice crystals.

With the solemnity of a funeral, two of the soldiers embark the pier with the Arendelle crown and take apprehensive steps towards Anna.

"_The Queen is dead-_" a soldier proclaims.

"_No!_" Anna screams, her voice slicing through the dark silence.

"-_Long live the Queen!_" the soldiers chime in unison.

Unwilling to accept her fate, Anna lurches forward and shoves the soldier carrying Elsa's crown, sending it clattering on the planks. She snaps her head to the sound of a jingle, and her eyes widen at the other soldier producing a pair of shackles from beneath his uniform.

"Your Majesty! You _have _to come with us! _Now!_" he snarls.

"No, no!" Anna shrieks, her eyes flit to the olive branch insignia on the two soldiers' epaulettes; behind the fog of her despair, a faint memory filters through into her mind. _Hans. Southern Isles. _

A sharp clank snaps the image of Han's smirk from her mind as he slaps the shackles on Anna's wrist; in the ensuing tussle, one of them comes loose, and Anna slaps it across his skull. The other soldier leaps forward to subdue her, right before his head snaps back as Anna's fist collides with his face, sending a trail of scarlet flying through the night air. In the darkness, two splashes are heard echoing through the silence and the other soldier in the boat begins inching away from Anna.

With a swift movement of her right arm, she loops the shackle around the man's neck and drags him onto the pier. His face goes white as Anna tightens the chain around his throat, and his flailing feet make _thud thud thud _sounds on the planks.

"Tell me what happened to Elsa_, right now!_" Anna snarls through gritted teeth, "or you're going into the water like the both of them!"

He scratches helplessly at the chains digging into his neck, rasping a hoarse, "_C-C-C" _noise from his throat

"_What?_"

The soldier's face starts turning purple, before he gasps, "_Coup!_"

Anna's gaze snaps to the crocus motif on his epaulettes, and she relaxes her grip.

"A coup? Against Elsa?"

"Yes, your…um…Highness," he pants, rubbing at his raw, bleeding neck.

She spots the scroll poking out from beneath his uniform, and snatches it from him before he can protest. With widened eyes and trembling fingers, Anna unrolls the parchment and races across the words, gasping as each word spells out the gravity of what has happened.

* * *

_EXECUTIVE ORDER 269: ALL OPERATIONAL VESSELS, ARENDELLE FLEET_

_1: HRM Queen Elsa of Arendelle will be removed from the Throne at 1800hrs. Succession plan as follows:- _

_ i – HRH Princess Anna of Arendelle is to be proclaimed Queen of Arendelle at 1800hrs. _

_ ii – All Arendelle Flags are to be lowered from Sprit Topmast and Main Mast latest by 1800hrs_

_ iii – All portraits of Queen Elsa are to be removed from Main Galley, Officer's Wardroom, Captain's Cabin latest by 1800hrs_

_2: All vessels are to be turned over to Southern Isles command. Boarding of Commissioned Southern Isles Naval Officers is to be allowed to enforce compliance. _

_3: All vessels are to remain in position and await further instructions. _

_4: Any and all interfering actions will be punishable by death._

_BY ORDER_

_FLEET ADMIRAL GERALD BAUMGARTNER, ROYAL ARENDELLE NAVY_

_HRM KING ADOLPHUS SCHLUND OF THE SOUTHERN ISLES_

* * *

"No!" Anna gasps, reading through the tear-stained scroll one more time, "this can't…this can't be happening!"

"It's already begun, but most of the military is divided over the legitimacy of the order."

The parchment rips into two between Anna's shaking hands, and she hurls the crumpled pieces into the water.

"_Where is Elsa?_" Anna screams, grabbing his collars and shaking him hard.

"HMAS _Norge_," he answers without hesitation, "y-your Highness, we don't even know if s-she's still a-alive."

The trembling in Anna's voice fades away into a stern voice as clear as day. "I don't care, just take me there," she orders. Without waiting, the princess leaps into the boat, forgetting how much she tried to avoid getting into one in the first place.

With the stealthiness of a snake stalking its prey, the boat slips beneath the dusk fog and slides past the _Norge. _Unlike her sister, the ship holds no meaning for Anna, having elected to take a nap during her military history classes. However, her heart aches as the boat brushes against its hull; she shakes the thought of Elsa's dead body lying somewhere within its compartments, and motions for the soldier to slow his rowing.

"Your Highness," he whispers, pointing at an open hatch by the side of the ship, "you may board here, although I know not where they've kept her Majesty."

Anna clenches her fists and stares at the opening. With the boat rocking to and fro in the tide, she swallows down the nausea bubbling in the pit of her stomach, and rises to her feet.

"There are men from the Southern Isles onboard all the ships. They won't harm you, but things won't go down well if you're discovered."

With a firm nod, Anna stops the boat by the hatch and gingerly eases a foot onto the ship.

"One more thing," the soldier continues, his voice breaking beneath the strain, "_Prince Hans is onboard._"

She snaps back a glance and her grimace deepens at his words.

"_Good._"

* * *

The ship's deck usually creaks beneath the weight of a man, but Anna's slender frame barely makes a squeak as she slips behind a pair of gruff officers from the Southern Isles enforcing the fleet-wide curfew. All the crewmen from cooks to Captain have been confined to their quarters after the coup took effect due to fears of mutiny; unfounded perhaps, but loyalty to the Throne runs deep amongst men infatuated with the Queen's powers.

Despite her determination to find Elsa, Anna inevitably finds herself hopelessly lost within the dark, narrow corridors of the ship. Although there're only two corridors running the length of the _Norge, _the dark, foreboding atmosphere and utter lack of company renders Anna sick from the unrelenting listing of the ship. The sight of rats gnawing on half-eaten bread in the galley does nothing to alleviate her nausea, and she ducks her head out of a porthole to retch out whatever little she had for lunch, spitting out the last of her regurgitated egg sandwich into the ripples below.

Anna's heart lurches as a gloved hand slams upon her shoulders and whirls her around. She lets out a shriek as she loses her balance and clutches on the offending party's uniform – but her blood turns to ice as his face comes into view.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Hans snarls, tightening his grasp around her arms. He pulls her up to his face, leaving her feet dangling an inch above the ground.

With her svelte frame squirming within his arms, Anna's face turns white at the thought of Hans having a part to play in her sister's imprisonment. Her blood begins to boil as his lips curl into a smile; the urge to rip apart his jaw overwhelms her mind – and her slender fingers curl up into shaking fists.

Hans's venomous snarling slips through his teeth in a gust of fog, "I promised your sister I'd-"

Without warning, Anna's body goes limp; she tilts her head forward and closes the gap between her lips and his. His eyes widen at the touch of her warmth, and his fingers relax – though they retain a firm grip on her arms. Anna slithers her tongue over his lips, and he spots a glimmer in her eyes when they part.

"I've been waiting for this moment ever since you left," Anna whispers.

"But I thought you-"

"Shh," Anna coos, touching a finger to his lips and kissing along his jaw. A smirk graces her lips as she sidles her knee up between his legs, and he edges her slowly to the ground. Amidst the gentle rocking of the ship, Anna allows Hans to lay her down on the galley floor, and his lips betray none of his desire as he kisses her with a furious passion.

The ship lists slightly, and Anna uses its momentum to flip over Hans and straddle him. Fear flashes across his eyes as they open to the sight of the red-headed brunette smirking down at him; he attempts to loosen his fingers from her grasp, but it's too late. With a feral grunt, Anna snaps both his wrists backwards with a sickening crack, and jams a handkerchief into his mouth before he's able to cry out.

"I've been waiting for this moment ever since you left," Anna scowls, grinning at Hans writhing beneath her, "now tell me, _where is Elsa_?"

Hans shuts his eyes amidst a trickle of tears streaming down his cheeks, he thrashes his head violently before Anna yanks it to the side by a tuft of hair. Slowly, she leans down to his ears and whispers, "I'm going to break your bones one by one until you tell me."

She dips an ear towards the cloth stuck in his mouth, and pretends to understand the unintelligible gibberish leaving his throat. A squeal pierces through the galley as Anna pops his fingers from their sockets.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Anna smirks, ripping the fabric from his teeth.

"Fuck!" Hans screams, staring at his bent and misshapen fingers, "I'm not-, fuck! My fingers! You sick fuck!"

The screams fall silent as Anna repeatedly slams her fist into his skull, sending Hans's head thudding back violently into the wood.

"Ok, ok! I'll tell you where your precious Elsa is!" Hans pleads, wiping his arm across the blood streaming out of his nose.

She pulls him closer to her ear and listens.

"_Before I killed your sister,_" Hans whispers, freezing Anna's heart in its place, "_I fucked her_."

With a sweep of her arms, Anna lets out a roar and flings Hans before a galley bench. She pries open his quivering jaw and jams his teeth on its edge. Before Hans reacts, Anna raises a boot and slams it into to the back of his head, sending teeth clattering all over the floor and the bench up his skull.

"_What the fuck?_" A voice tears through the galley.

Anna whirls around and comes face to face with the captain of the Southern Isles guard, flanked by a pair of soldiers. The captain barely registers the sight of Han's bloodied head with a foot of wood up his throat, before Anna breaks a bench over his head. The two guards behind him draw swords and lose them at the same time as Anna rips them from their arms, dislocating their shoulders in the process. Limbs, heads, and blood splatter the galley floor as Anna slaughters them in a chorus of screaming and swearing.

"_Stop! The Queen is Alive!_" another sailor cries out at Anna, still hacking and slashing at their decapitated bodies. Behind him stands a troupe of Arendelle sailors, bearing axes, knives, and bits of rope. With bloodshot eyes brimming with tears, Anna drops her sword and grabs the nearest sailor, nearly a foot taller than her, and tosses him into the others like a rag doll. It takes three men several attempts to pin Anna to the floor.

"_We're on your side, your Highness!_" he snarls, flashing the crocus emblems on his uniform to Anna's face. With the weight of three men on top of her, Anna makes a feeble attempt at biting him, but soon relegates herself to a trembling, shaking mess as tears stream from her eyes.

"Elsa is…is…alive?"

"Yes, your Highness," he says, pausing before continuing with a tremble in his voice, "we heard her screams coming from the hold."

With a mighty heave, Anna lets out a feral scream and overturns the men holding her down.

"_No, no, no!_" Anna shrieks, clutching at her dishevelled, blood-stained hair with shaking fists.

"We can save her!" he yells, grabbing Anna by the shoulders and shaking her until her crazed eyes return to sanity, "but there're men from the Southern Isles guarding the-"

"_We take the hold now!_" Anna exclaims, her blood-soaked dress heaving with each staggered breath she takes. With a growl, Anna grabs a sword and marches off amidst the sounds of clinking weapons and men cheering on the Princess of Arendelle.


	14. Chapter 14

With a grunt, Anna swings a lute hard into a sailor's head; shattering his jaw amidst the twanging of broken strings. His shirt rips apart as she tosses him over the deck, and he falls into the slew of boats docking by the ship's hull_._ Anna flicks her head to the sight of the mutiny rapidly deteriorating into a free-for-all as the remaining Southern Isles sailors desperately defend the last corridor leading to the hold.

"Boats are coming!" the ship's captain yells over the din of clashing steel as he bludgeons another sailor over the head with a telescope.

A loud roar erupts on the deck as the Arendelle sailors rally together and begin beating off Southern Isles troops attempting to board the _Norge's_ rigging. News of the mutiny spread like wildfire around the fleet; helped about in no small part by the ferocious roar of Anna's enraged voice tearing through the foggy night air. Several ships have already raised the Crocus flag and started sending their own troops into the fray – having launched mutinies of their own and regained control of their vessels.

Amidst the melee, no one notices a tall man emerging from a heavily barred door. His olive-branch signet ring glints against the glare of torches ablaze as he unholsters a blunderbuss and aims it directly at Anna struggling against a hefty-sized sailor over a spear. The sight hovers over her head, and a smirk forms on his lips as he pulls the trigger. Two brawling sailors stumble over his toes and the gun misfires, sending a bullet zipping through Anna's hair and shattering the bulwark.

Anna bolts upright at the sound and frantically feels her neck for a wound; finding none, she spots the King reloading his gun through the crowd of brawling men, and snaps her opponent's neck across his shoulders. With a feral growl, she lurches towards the King on all fours and leaps across the deck just in time to slam into him as his gun fires again. The impact sends him crashing through the door and into a corridor. Anna's eyes widen at the sight of the hold's door yards away from her and starts running, but a sharp tug at her feet sends her falling face-first into the deck. She groans in pain and lashes out a boot at the King, before scrambling to her feet.

Adolphus leans his entire weight into Anna and tackles her to the floor inches away from the door. With a loud crack, he lashes out the pistol at her head and she returns the assault with a fist into his nose. Bloodied and bruised – the two aristocrats brawl in the darkness, throttling and choking at each other's necks. Despite the King's hulking frame, Anna's rage-induced insanity wins out; she jams her fist into his mouth and flings him headfirst through the hold's door. The sudden blast of heat scorching Anna's face is dulled by the chill ripping through Anna's body when she sees a pile of fabric on the ground.

"_Elsa!_" Anna screams at the sight of her sister buckled over the floor in chains. She trods over the King and shakes desperately at Elsa's motionless body. "Elsa, _please, please, please wake up!_"

Anna's flesh hisses as she closes her fingers around the red-hot chains and rips it from Elsa's hands in one motion. Ignoring the blisters on her hands, the gauntlets come apart with the crunch of tearing iron and Anna unleashes a roar when Elsa's burnt hands come into view.

"You _fuck!_" Anna shrieks, yanking the King's half-conscious body by his head and dragging him towards the furnace, "_you fucking fuck! What the fuck did you do to her?_"

After hurling the King's body into the fires, Anna whirls around from the barely audible howls of pain coming from within the furnace to the sight of enemy soldiers marching down the corridor.

"_Get the Queen!_"

Blood and sweat pours down Anna's face as she lifts her sister's limp body and starts down the corridor. She picks up a broken half of the hold's door as she gains momentum, before slamming it into the soldiers like a battering ram. Amidst the shrieks from crushed toes and dented faces, Anna powers through the last few men and leaps clear onto the deck with Elsa slung over her shoulders, sending mauled bodies and broken limbs flying into the fray. With the noise of cannon fire and men fighting resonating across the deck, Anna's eyes flits from person to person; her hands begin to shake under the panic welling up inside her.

With most of the Southern Isles soldiers inching away from the crazed, blood-thirsty presence the Princess commands, Anna starts ducking the random mix of objects being thrown at her from around the deck. The dam of terror within her reaches its breaking point and she hurls herself overboard, screaming as she plummets into the bloodied waters below. As she regains her composure bobbing between the shattered hulls of small boats, the sight of sailors' corpses floating around her twists her stomach into knots, and she retches into the water.

"_Elsa!_" Anna gasps, wiping her mouth and swallowing her nausea. Anna's heart leaps at the tinge of frost skirting across the surface from her sister's body lying face up in the crimson tide. With the smell of blood and gunpowder filling her nostrils, Anna yanks her sister and hauls her into a barely-floating wreck of a boat. She covers her sister's body with her own and starts paddling away from the _Norge_ with a plank of broken wood_, _all the while looking over her shoulder at the firey chaos of war descending upon the fleet.

* * *

"_Please, please, Elsa, just…hang in there,_" Anna pleads, dragging her sister onto the shore beneath the glare of a dull-orange night sky. She flinches at the sound of a cannon, and flings herself over Elsa. Despite the light sleet descending on the bloodied and bruised siblings, Elsa remains unconscious beneath the soaking wet mess of blankets wrapped around her body. Anna kneels against the grass and chokes up the salty-bitter taste of blood in her lungs. It takes her several attempts to lift Elsa over her shoulders; she stumbles up the shore, slipping and sliding against the dusting of snow under her feet.

Unsure of her bearings, Anna wanders further and further into the stillness of the night. The adrenaline of Elsa's rescue has all but faded away into her gasping breaths, and a dull ache begins swirling in her belly. Resting against the side of a tree, Anna gasps as her hands come away with blood from where the King had shot her by the side of her waist. She leans Elsa against the trunk and rips a hole in her dress in an attempt to determine the severity of her wound, but the foggy darkness steals every trace of light from the air.

A sudden gust sweeps through Anna's hair and she flattens herself against the ground. "_What the hell was that?" S_he gasps, and sweat runs down her brow as she spots the silhouette of an arrow perched a foot away from her.

"_Oh no._"

With the ache in her belly developing into a raging burn, Anna grits her teeth and picks Elsa up, dashing as fast as her feet can hustle into the concealment of trees. She snaps her head back at the twang of a bowstring, and barely spots the arrow fast enough for her to throw herself away from its path – sending her and Elsa tumbling through the leaves.

Anna peers into the haze and tries to make out _something, _but her eyes are met with a swirling fog growing fingers of its own. Her ears prickle at the sound of galloping hooves, and she briefly makes out the shadow of a rider in the distance. Whirling around, she spots another shadow riding away from her, and another further into the forest. Anna clutches at her face as the realisation slams into her head.

A whistling sound gives away the trajectory of the next arrow, and Anna easily dodges it with a roll. She leaps to her feet in time to come face to face with the sight of a horse bearing right down at her. The point of a spear glints in the darkness; she rips it from the air just as its wielder strikes out at her. The force of Anna's sweep unseats the rider, catapulting him into the ground next to Elsa.

The soldier ignores Anna and draws his sword over Elsa. His attempts to slash the Queen's throat are met with a sputtered gargle as Anna forces his throat down on the blade. Her shaking hands come away slick with blood, and she makes out an olive branch on his epaulettes.

The rumble of galloping hooves tears Anna's attention away from the ice forming beneath her feet, and she yanks the spear from the ground. With a shriek, Anna lashes out hard at another rider swooping down on her, batting him high into the trees. The rustle of leaves sends her fleeing back to Elsa, and she hurls the spear into a soldier with a dagger drawn across Elsa's throat, sending him flying backwards into a tree.

"_No, no, no!_" Anna shrieks as she realises how impossibly _surrounded_ and outnumbered she is.

Anna's footsteps leave swirls of smoke twirling in her wake, and a night breeze descends upon the forest, parting a rift in the fog. She looks down at the ground and gasps at the trail of ice glistening beneath the moonlight. Despite her best efforts at treading lightly, her apprehensive steps do nothing to conceal the sleet falling on the grass.

"Please, Elsa," Anna whispers to her sister, barely stirring beneath the exertions, "please try to control it- they're coming for you."

Elsa lips slur in response, but her eyes remain shut against Anna's shoulders. Silhouetted against the shore's red glow, Anna spots a platoon of cavalry trotting through the forest; she ducks her head and runs, but her mind has already been made up. The thudding of hooves accelerates into a medley of galloping, and a tear escapes Anna's eyes as she realises that _her end draws near_.

With her hand firmly clutched around her stomach and blood oozing from between her fingers, Anna scans the ground and finds a large pile of leaves. She gingerly eases her sister into a ditch and buries her as quickly as her trembling hands can muster. The neighing of horses gets louder and louder as Anna kicks up leaves around the trail of ice left behind by her sister.

"I'm sorry, Elsa," Anna whispers, planting a kiss on the only exposed patch of skin on Elsa's forehead, "_forgive me_."

Letting out a ferocious roar, Anna runs off in the _opposite_ direction from her sister. She glances over at the approaching horsemen and her heart begins to throb violently as they turn to attack her. Her feet take her several yards before the pain in her stomach reaches its breaking point; she buckles over on the grass and groans in agony at the fire tearing through her guts.

"_Please,_" Anna pleads with her body. She grits her teeth and rises to meet her attackers, extending a pair of bloodied hands into the hazy darkness. Despite Anna's tear-fogged gaze hampering her vision, she spots the glimmer of a spear flying towards her, and shifts her weight just enough to snatch it from the air a second before it would've struck her. A pair of riders descend upon Anna and lash out at her with swords, before ending up impaled against a tree. The other horsemen dismount and surround Anna in their dozens, wielding spears in their trembling hands and sleet-white expressions on their faces.

A tall, muscular man approaches on a horse and stares at the sheen of tousled red hair falling across Anna's shoulders. His booming voice forms foggy clouds beneath his helmet, "_Where is Elsa?"_

Anna's trembling frame remains resolute despite being slumped over in pain. She flashes a look of hatred at the commander – before extending the spear towards him.

"Take her!" he commands his men, "_by force_!"

The circle of pikes descend upon Anna and a roar resonates through the forest as she sends the first three men flying into the others. However, the troop of soldiers prove too much even for Anna, and before long they overpower her; slapping iron shackles around her wrists and ankles. Still, she drags the men along the ground from her chains, desperate to lose none of her freedom. The commander dismounts his horse and slaps her hard across the face with the flat of his sword.

Anna slumps to the ground as her vision turns red beneath the trail of blood leaking from her head. Her world spins, but just before she passes out, she spots a small pile of leaves where Elsa's body lies –

- And her lips curl into a smile.


	15. Chapter 15

The pulsating ache in Elsa's throat stirs her from the darkest pits of her drug-induced unconsciousness. With sleep still heavy on her eyelids, a raspy groan escapes her lips as she rolls over; sitting up in the loose swathing of fabric holding her captive. Her eyes open to the sight of a blanket against her bare skin, and a soft, downy mattress beneath her hips.

"_What the-_" Elsa gasps, staring at the sparse, stone room around her, lit by streams of sunlight filtering through a cobwebbed window. The sight of leather armor and swords lined neatly against the wall jogs her memory back to a day before, and the searing heat burning into her face sends her slamming back into the bed. With a wave of uncontrollable trembling coursing its way through her body and touching the very tips of her toes, Elsa lifts her arms before her and tries to make sense of the swathing of bandages around her hands. The fleeting thought of Anna's smile slips into her mind, and her hands turn to ice.

"Nice to see you haven't lost the gift," a soft voice resonates across the room.

Shrieking, Elsa recoils from the bed and tumbles on the floor, dragging herself away from the voice. Her eyes widen at the sight of a tall, blonde woman in an unfamiliar uniform, and she finds her name slipping from her lips before she remembers who it is.

"Anastasia?"

"Still haven't forgotten me huh? I must've made a good impression."

Elsa presses a bandaged hand to her face as the ache in her head makes a reappearance, "What? Why am I here? Are you-"

The woman kneels by her side, and trails her fingers along Elsa's bandages.

"I found you in the forest in soaking wet clothes with your hands burnt to a crisp. Any kind soul would've taken you in and did something to alleviate your pain – and you'll find out soon enough that I'm _more_ than just a kind soul."

"A field? Wasn't I locked up in-" Elsa's gasps, wandering her gaze to a crossbow laid beneath a quiver hanging on the wall, "Wait, you're not really a farm girl from Finnmark are you?"

Anastasia's lips curl into a smirk, and she leans closer to the Queen, "Let's just say that I'm not _just_ a farm girl. For the most part, my days are filled with milking cows and stacking hay."

"Well, who are you? And how did you find me?"

Heat courses through the Queen's face as the woman drags her lips against Elsa's ears, and she hangs onto her every word.

"I'm from the Russian foreign service bureau," she drawls in a Russian accent, "I protect the interests of the Tsar in Scandinavia. As for your second question, I'm giving you a chance to reconsider asking. I doubt you'll find the answer very palatable."

Elsa stares at the bear insignia patch sewn into Anastasia's faded uniform, tattered and stained from years of service in far off lands – and tries to reconcile that with the image of a sultry peasant girl she met just days before.

"No," Elsa snaps, shifting her weight away from the overwhelming proximity Anastasia imposes, "I think I'd very much like to know."

Elsa's eyes widen and frost forms beneath her hips as the woman produces a scrap of cloth. From the beige fabric, she recognises it as the dress she wore on her first night in Finnmark until it was torn to scraps by...

"I found this in room nine at the inn," she says, pressing the fabric to her nose and inhaling, "I've been told I have a keen sense of smell, but for tracking human beings – dogs are far more intuitive."

The Queen stares directly into Anastasia's eyes, trying to determine if she knows about their dirty little secret. For a moment, all she detects is the glimmer of desire reaching towards her, but the smirk on her lips gives her away.

"You can't tell anyone," Elsa pleads, "Arendelle will turn on me if they know about me and-"

"Shh," Anastasia whispers, touching a finger to Elsa's lips. The blood rushes to her face, though she can't determine if it's from the softness of Anastasia's touch, or the fact that someone else _knows_ the filthy connection she shared with Anna.

"I know now you like redheads," Anastasia continues, "my question is – how about blondes?"

Before Elsa can even comprehend the question, or phrase a reply, Anastasia closes her lips around Elsa's and steals the breath from her lungs with the softest of kisses. She finds herself unable to resist, or push the _magnetic_ touch of her fingers from her face. But before she can even decide what to _feel _about the sensation, it's over, and she's left looking up at the intense green eyes of Anastasia bearing down on her.

"How do I even know you're on my side?" Elsa scowls, holding out a frosty hand to keep Anastasia away, "I've already been betrayed by the military."

"Believe me, Russia stands to lose more than she could gain from an unstable Scandinavia. Arendelle remains the last nation strong enough to challenge the warmongers of this region. I think you know which countries I'm talking about."

"The Southern Isles?"

"You didn't really think you could just disband the entire military without repercussions, did you?"

Elsa raises an eyebrow at her captor and scowls, "Of course I did, at first. Obviously, this is turning out to be a bad idea."

"All the youth and none of the experience," Anastasia drawls, twirling a lock of Elsa's hair between her fingers. She clutches her captor's fingers with the intention of pushing her away, but finds herself unable to do so, and merely allows her touch to linger.

A smirk crosses Anastasia's face as she continues, "and you had no idea the Southern Isles have been supplying arms to Arendelle for years after your parents' deaths?"

"Arms?" Elsa asks, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes, "Why would Arendelle need _arms_ for? My father would have never approved such a thing, we have all the-"

"There, there little one," Anastasia slurs, leaning forward and sliding her finger tips beneath Elsa's chin, "I think you'll discover in due time how much...corruption goes on when thrones are left vacant."

Elsa gasps and inches herself away from her captor, "the General! And the Admiral! They've been taking bribes from the Southern Isles to supply Arendelle's military?"

"You catch on quickly for a Queen of your age," Anastasia says, shifting her weight towards Elsa, "it's a pity you couldn't catch on to their plot."

"You _knew?_" Elsa exclaims, pressing a bandaged hand to the woman's chest, "Russia knew? And you didn't do anything?"

"Of course not!" Anastasia says, swatting Elsa's hand away, "we wouldn't have a cause to kill the lot of them before they made any moves did we? Besides, there were a lot more of them planning to overthrow you – and we needed all of them to show their colours-"

"Is _this _enough?" Elsa shrieks and holds up her bandaged hands, "They locked me in a godforsaken _oven_!"

"They did? That _was_ rather unfortunate," Anastasia quips, eliciting a scowl of disapproval from Elsa, "Although it does beg the question of how you got _out _of said oven. The Southern Isles isn't known for making the same mistakes twice."

Elsa screws her eyes shut and shakes her head, "I don't- All I remember was Hans gassing me with chloroform, and the next thing I knew, I woke up here."

"Nothing rings a bell?"

Elsa focuses hard on the last memories which filtered into her consciousness before everything turned to black. _Hans. Fucking. Anna._

"Oh my god," Elsa gasps as her bandages freeze over and frost skirts along the ceiling, "_Anna!_ Where's Anna?"

"We don't know," Anastasia says, looking at the snow peeling from Elsa's skin, "the last time we saw her – she was standing by the pier while she was supposed to be proclaimed Queen in your place. And then the entire Arendelle Fleet erupted into a mutiny against the Coup."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Elsa snaps, grabbing at Anastasia's uniform, "Please, oh god, _please!_ You _have _to find out where she is!"

"Relax, there're scouts looking for her," Anastasia says, brushing the sleet from Elsa's hair, "as for you however – you're safe and sound with me – where nobody can harm you."

Backed into a corner, Elsa's attempts at inching away from Anastasia reach their limits. With her mind rife with worry over Anna, Elsa doesn't notice the woman slithering her lips along her cheek. The overwhelming scent of vanilla fails to stir Elsa from her thoughts, nor does the touch of Anastasia's lips to hers. Elsa keeps her eyes open as her captor feasts on her lips, drinking in the taste of the Queen's moist sweetness. When she's done, Anastasia cups Elsa's face in her hands, blowing softly against her lips and cooing her name.

"You have to help me find Anna," Elsa pleads, ignoring the dampness dripping from her bandages, "_please_."

"Well, that depends on how much you're willing to..._put out _with me."

Elsa's frowns at Anastasia; the thought of slapping her sends a twitch into her hand, but decides against starting another war when she hasn't even finished one yet. Just as she begins leaning in for another kiss, a knock on the door causes them to flinch, and Anastasia leaps to her feet. A man in a military uniform appears and she fails to conceal her displeasure at his interruption. The pair exchange a series of angry words in Russian, before he looks over at Elsa with cocked eyebrows. Slapping an envelope into her hand, he turns on his heels and leaves as quickly as he arrived – leaving Anastasia alone with Elsa once more.

"Idiot," Anastasia mutters, unfolding the two slips of paper in her possession. Her eyes dart across the letters and Elsa's jaw begins to widen at the sight of her captor's expression turning grim.

"What is it?" Elsa demands, crossing her arms.

"They've found Anna," Anastasia whispers, holding out the report to Elsa, "she's being taken to the Southern Isles. But there's-"

Elsa lets out a shriek and throttles Anastasia by the collar, "_Let's get her now!_ _What are we waiting for?_"

"There's another problem," Anastasia whispers, unfolding a map, "our informant in the Southern Isles has reported that their naval harbours have emptied – and from the wind patterns this time of the year, their fleet would be on course straight for Arendelle."

"_What!_" Elsa shrieks, snatching the papers from Anastasia. She races her eyes across the red dots splayed across the map denoting the mightiest fleet in all of Northern Europe, sucking in her breath as she sees just how close they are to Arendelle's Fjords, and the thousands of lives in the Capital. She flips to the next page and finds another drawing of a route through the valleys – with a blue 'X' marking _HRH PRINCESS ANNA OF ARENDELLE, LAST KNOWN LOCATION. _With shaking hands, Elsa holds out the two pieces of paper and flits her eyes between them; frost crackles from her fingertips and they freeze solid beneath her grasp.

"For Christ's sake Anastasia!" Elsa exclaims, tossing the frozen paper-planks onto the bed and racing to the window, "Where the hell is this place?"

"A cliff on the edge of the Finnmark-Russia border," Anastasia mutters, picking up the papers and dropping them as the cold bites into her fingers.

Elsa throws open the windows and gasps at the hundred-foot drop into the pounding surf below. She shuts her eyes at the sunlight bearing down on her face, and the sea breeze whips through her gleaming hair. Forcing her eyes open, she stares into the distance at the still-smouldering ships of Arendelle's fleet docked in the harbour from last night's failed coup.

"The fleet!" Elsa exclaims, clutching at the windowsill and freezing it solid, "It'll take them forever to get back!"

"It's genius," Anastasia mutters, staring at the frost streaking across the room and keeping her distance from Elsa, "the Arendelle High Command lured your fleet and standing army away under the guise of the field trials, leaving the capital wide open to a Southern Isles invasion; treachery unheard of – even in Russia."

The Queen whispers into the fall breeze wafting into the room, pleading with the winds for Anna's safety.

"Please, you have to – have to - save Anna," Elsa stutters to Anastasia, "buy me some time, or the Southern Isles will damn us all. I'll fix this – I promise."

Anastasia shakes her head and inches herself further from the icicles sprouting around Elsa's feet, "I don't get it, what do you expect me to do? And what _can _you do about the Southern Isles? It's an entire-"

Before she can finish her sentence, Anastasia lurches towards Elsa mounting a foot on the sill and throwing herself out of the window. She gasps as the Queen plummets towards the rocks below, but a smirk forms on her lips as a snow-dragon swoops in from nowhere and whisks Elsa away on the winds. With a flap of its wings, the air around her trembles in deference at the majestic sight, and the dragon soars south towards Arendelle's capital.

"Alright then," Anastasia mutters to herself, "you've made your choice, and now I'll make mine."


	16. Chapter 16

With a creak resonating through the roar of pounding surf, the _RSS_ _Vengance _mounts a crest and dips through the waves. The heaviest ship of the line in all of Northern Europe, she's flanked by no less than five dozen other frigates and cutters from the Southern Isles, brimming with troops and guns in anticipation of the largest amphibious invasion ever assembled. Clutching onto the bulwark, Admiral Josef Eisenhardt of the Southern Isles clenches his teeth and rechecks the meteorological calculations for the day.

"A strong westward wind is due later," he comments to the ship's captain with a smirk, "these should fan the fires well enough that there won't be much left for us to conquer."

The captain peers through his telescope at the sight of Arendelle's capital approaching, "Westward, sir? The Arendelle lumber mills lie in that direction. Perhaps we should-"

"Oh, to hell with the lumber," he mutters, "there won't be anyone to cut the trees after we're done with this place."

The ship lists as two other hulking battleships pull up alongside the _Vengance_ with crewmen rolling out pieces of naval artillery and stacking barrels of gunpowder on the upper deck. Their sails balloon and hold steady in the wind as they tear through the waves with the tenacity of raging bull. A veteran of numerous sea battles in the North Sea, the admiral puts down his sextant and draws another series of firing arcs on a map soaked in spray. His wrinkled face creases into a grin as the last lines slice across Arendelle's capital.

"Any time now," he sneers, tightening his grasp on a pencil and elevating his gaze to the azure sky. The clang of a bell rings across the deck, "_Arendelle, ho!" _the watchmen cry out.

"Very well then, Captain," the admiral says, "commence the invasion."

"Drop sail to steerageway speed, right full rudder," the captain hollers across the deck, inspiring a flurry of activity from sailors racing to adjust the sails, "_ready the cannons!_"

Webbings of ropes groan under their strain as the vessel lurches towards the right; beneath the deck, rows upon rows of wooden panels retract from the hull, revealing the entire broadside complement of cannons trained upon Arendelle. Crews load 32-pounder guns with clockwork discipline, awaiting the order to open fire, while their officers make last minute calculations to land the barrage directly on the bastions of Elsa's monarchical power: the church, the palace, and the city where the bulk of the population resides, still unaware of the hell looming over them.

A flag is raised on the main mast and the other ships around the _Vengance_ make similar manoeuvres, opening their gun hatches and awaiting the flagship's salvo. Hidden away in compartments unseen by the winds, battalions of soldiers wait in silence, clutching onto swords and crossbows and steeling their mettle for another round of war.

"Prepare to fire!" the captain shouts across the deck, and crewmen hover torches over their cannons' breeches as the ship completes its turn. He raises his hand, "_F-_"

"_Wait!_" the admiral interjects, sniffing at the air. He snaps his gaze to the flags on the main mast, and raises an eyebrow.

"The wind has changed," he observes, picking up the meteorological chart and studying it again, "this is an unexpected turn of events."

"Unexpected indeed," the captain comments, clasping his hands and rubbing them together.

"Chilly for August too, don't you think?" the admiral scowls without looking up.

"But winter's not due until-"

The realisation dawns upon them and they stare at each other with the blood drained from their faces. Despite wearing thick leather gloves, the Admiral's hands begin to tremble, and before long the veteran of forty years quakes in his boots.

"You don't think-" the captain starts, before a faint rumble resonates in the distance, and an ominous crackle shudders through the ship.

"_Sir! Sir!" _a lieutenant on deck yells, pointing at the water with a shaking finger, "_the Fjord is freezing over_!"

With the Captain frozen in place from the fate that has sunk into his mind, the Admiral marches over to the bulwark and recoils from the sight of ice skirting around the _Vengance _and bringing her to a dead halt beneath the autumn sun. The frost creeps up the other ships' hulls, stopping the invasion fleet from completing their manoeuvres.

The sound of men shouting resonates across the deck, and the thudding of scampering boots shakes the foundations of the ship. "Oh my god," he whispers, staring at the floor and unsure of whether he wants to turn and greet the sight which has thrown the crew into panic. With decades of naval service flashing across his mind, he bites his lip and slowly swivels around.

A deafening roar rips through the air as a snow dragon slams into the _Vengance's _bow, sending men retreating from the icy spikes sprouting through the wood. With fear crushing their spirits, the crew reach for spears and crossbows, only to drop them in terror as the dragon ravages through the deck, ripping up planks and tearing through sails with its icy claws.

The beast comes to a halt before the helm, snorting breaths of icy fog at the Admiral and the Captain frozen in place from the sight of utter _death_ before them. It lowers its wings and perches itself against the bulwarks, revealing Queen Elsa sitting astride; her clothes of captivity discarded and replaced with a shimmering ice-gown. The wind whips through her hair, fanning it out in a shimmering trail of gold gleaming beneath the sun.

"Ranking Officer!" Elsa demands, looking down at the two men; her piercing blue eyes glistening in the swirling snow.

"He is I," the Admiral says with quivering lips, pressing his back against the bulwark.

"I am Queen Elsa of Arendelle," Elsa says, her voice a clear blade of sound slicing through the billowing sleet, "and I demand your fleet's surrender!"

"You shall have it," he says without hesitation, "but I…I request safe passage for my men."

Elsa tightens her grip on the reins, snapping her head to the thousands of people lined up on the shore. She returns her gaze to the men cowering on the decks of the Southern Isle's fleet: fear-stricken, with eyes glued to the sight of the Queen astride her dragon. Elsa shuts her eyes and grits her teeth as the sound of Adolphus's sweat hissing on her searing gauntlets rips through her ears; she clenches her jaw and the perspiration on her knuckles freezes over.

"Lower your boats and retreat across the ice to the edge of the Fjord," Elsa says, looking away from the Admiral, "there, you will be free to plot a course back to the Southern Isles. But the ships are to remain here, do we have terms?"

The Admiral bows and gasps, unable to believe his ears, "We have terms, your…your Majesty." He raises his head, but Elsa's dragon has already leapt into the winds, blotting out the morning sun with the spread of its wings.

"Didn't the princes promise us they'll get rid of her?" the Captain asks, brushing the sleet from his shoulders.

"The nobility will always give promises they can't fulfil; if they did – I'd be King by now."

"Well, what do we do now?"

"I guess- I guess we're free to go," the Admiral replies with tears brimming in his eyes, "abandon the fleet."

The Captain's voice shakes as he raises his hand one last time, "S-sound horns, a-abandon ships!"


	17. Chapter 17

A rumble echoes through Anna's ears and she stirs awake as the carriage bumps along the dirt track. With her vision too hazy to make out anything before her in the darkness, she tries using other senses to gain her bearings, but only perceives the smell of blood and the taste of metal in her mouth. Her heart sways with movement of the carriage sweeping through a bend, and the panic welling up within her stirs the other senses into motion; she stares at the iron shackles around her arms: twice as thick as her wrists and splattered with dried blood.

She lurches from her seat, only to find her ankles locked into the ground with chains normally used for anchoring ships. The volume of metal holding down her limbs renders her immobile; Anna opens her mouth to voice her rage, but an iron mask clamped around the lower half of her face jams her jaw shut.

A trickle of blood seeps from her nose and adds another damp spot of crimson to her dress. With her head spinning from the nausea, the slightest movement of the carriage tilts her chin back, and Anna gasps at the sight of another man sitting barely a foot across her. Bearing boyish looks and a smirk on his lips, he spits on the floor and tightens his grip on the bench. The glow of a lantern in the carriage lends a menacing aura to the boy, who otherwise isn't much older than Hans.

"Nice to see you've come to, _your highness_," he sneers, mocking her royal title. Sparse rays of moonlight fall through the curtains and land on his sword – illuminating the royal crest of the Southern Isles.

Anna's eyes widen at the bloodstains lining the edge; she snaps her gaze back at him and narrows her stare.

"They couldn't find enough of Hans's skull to fill a mug," he scowls, running his fingers over the sword's handle, "it's a pity you have to be kept alive – but perhaps that's a good thing, _I can still have my way with you._"

Whatever little blood left in Anna's face drains completely as the young prince picks up his sword and drags it over her hair. He presses the edge against her ear, and locks his gaze to Anna's.

"I think I'll spare your ears for now," he mutters, sheathing his sword, "you'll want to savour every word I have to say to you."

The prince jerks forward and slams his hand on her knee; he perks his ears up at the muffled scream from Anna's mask, and a smirk crosses his face.

"You might want to save your voice too, _I love hearing whores like you scream,_" he whispers, sliding his tongue across his lips.

The sound of Anna's heart pounding in her hear drowns out the rumbling of the carriage as the prince slides his hand up her thigh. She clenches her fists until they turn white and yanks hard at the shackles. He leans forward and stares at Anna's eyes, screwed shut under the storm building up inside her. His breathing accelerates as he slips his fingers beneath her undergarments; Anna grits her teeth and exerts every ounce of strength her broken body can muster into the shackles. They bend slightly, but with every gruelling second ticking by and the further he ventures up her thighs – the shackles push back against her wrists.

"Fuck this," the prince spits and throws his body over Anna, "_I've no time to play games._"

A bead of sweat rolls off her forehead as he edges up the hem of her dress, Anna screams as hard as she can into the mask – but her muffled pleas serve only to heighten the prince's arousal pressing down between her legs. Despite the metal covering her face, the smell of his musky sweat manages to invade Anna's nostrils and she gags at his smell, barely a sputter against the noise of his heavy breathing in her ears. With a grunt, he pushes his hips flush against hers and fumbles with his belt buckle. Anna shuts her eyes and squirms beneath the imposing burden of her aggressor, but without warning, the weight lifts from her body, and she gasps in relief.

From a gap in the window, the end of a whip coils around the prince's neck like a snake; he struggles against the hemp tightening against his throat, cursing and sputtering threats.

"Lay a finger on her and I'll wring your neck," an older prince announces from the driver's seat, "our orders are to bring her back in one piece."

"Piss off," he yells at his brother, untangling the whip from his neck, "she killed Adolphus and Hans!"

"She's a fucking lunatic, so that doesn't change a goddamned thing, now behave!"

The younger prince scowls and crosses his arms; Anna thinks she can get away with a snigger – but the glint in her eyes gives her away.

"Don't be so snide," he hisses, "I'll tear you in half when we get to Weselton."

Anna cocks an eyebrow at word _Weselton_; she shoots a glance at the Olive branch insignia on the Prince's lapels and the Southern Isles' crest on his sword.

"What's the matter? I'm sure the Weselton folk don't take very kindly to-"

The carriage shudders to a halt with a screeching crunch. Southern Isles riders pull up alongside the carriage and peer in with spears drawn, before trotting off amidst a chorus of raised voices.

"What's the hold up?" the older prince yells from his seat.

"Sir, there're obstacles on the road," a calvaryman says, "the route was scouted yesterday and there weren't this many boulders lining the trail."

"For fuck's sake, get them off the road!" the younger prince yells, grabbing his sword and sticking his head out the window, "we're wasting time sitting here like this, and there's no-"

A vile gurgling noise cuts him off and Anna shuts her eyes as a warm liquid splatters her face. She snaps her eyes back to the silhouette of an arrow lodged into his throat, and a dark trail of crimson seeping through the curtains.

"_Ambush!_" voices cry out around the carriage.

Her eyes widen and she muffles a scream as another arrow slices through the carriage, shattering the lantern in an explosion of embers. The cabin plunges into darkness, before erupting in a crescendo of flame as the curtains catch fire. A shriek echoes through the shouting and the carriage lurches beneath the weight of a rider dragging his mount's reins into the door. Anna screams when she sees an arrow lodged into his eye, and the fiery curtains setting his hair ablaze.

_Not good, not good – _Anna thinks, snapping her eyes left and right. The noise of clashing steel and neighing horses reverberate through her eardrums as she stares at the flames consuming the carriage and creeping closer to her clothes.

With Anna's mind fraying from the panic which has befallen her, she fails to notice a riderless horse driven mad by the ambush and running itself headlong into the carriage's side, tipping it over amidst the crunching of wood and snapping of reins. The hem of her dress catches fire, and she squirms under the flames searing her thigh. Smoke fills the carriage; despite the iron mask fastened over her face, she finds herself coughing up soot from her lungs.

_Crunch, crunch, crunch_ the carriage shudders. A yellow glint at her feet catches Anna's eyes – the point of an axe pries apart the wood around her shackles. _Crunch, _another hacks apart the floorboards from the outside. _Crunch, _the floor gives way beneath her dangling feet and a pair of hands drag her out by the legs – shackles and all.

Anna lands face first into a puddle of blood and lurches upright to the sickening sight of dead men and horses littering the trail. The nausea overwhelms her stomach and she retches into the grass. Two pairs of hands grab her by the shoulders and drag her past a line of bound Southern Isles prisoners; eyes filled with defeat and contempt as they gaze upon Anna's limp body.

The men deposit her face-down by a pile of captured weapons. A tall, slender woman clad in a black cloak approaches and Anna's heart soars as she lifts her head and notices a streak of blonde hair peeking out from beneath her hood. An array of knives strapped to her side glitters beneath the flicker of torches held by the men, and a crossbow bumps against her hip as she strides to Anna. The woman pulls the hood from her head and Anna's heart falters as a pair of unfamiliar green eyes stare down at her with contempt. She gasps as the taller woman cocks a crossbow and points it at Anna's head, and the men hold her back from inching away.

"Pathetic," Anastasia mutters. Anna holds her breath as her captor hovers a finger over the trigger. She shuts her eyes, and all the air in her lungs empties in one long gasp as a snap tears through her eardrums. But the first thing Anna notices is the weight lifting from her legs as the Russian soldiers drag away chains and a broken lock from the shackles. The clasp on her mask comes undone, and she gulps at the fresh night air like it's the first time she's breathing.

"I think I'll leave these on for now," Anastasia scowls, pointing at the shackles around her wrists, "my men here tell me you're quite the strong one, even for someone of your frame. They don't understand English, but I do – so would you care to tell me why?"

Anna looks down and shakes her head, "I don't…I don't know. Why are you helping me?"

Sighing, Anastasia slings the crossbow over her back and whispers, "We believe that it is in the interests of the Russian empire for us to help the house of Arendelle. But maybe I, personally, owe it to your sister-"

The memory of Elsa's motionless body buried beneath a pile of leaves sends Anna scrambling to her feet. With her hands still shackled together, she loses her balance and crumbles to her knees before Anastasia.

"Oh god, _please _tell me you've seen Elsa," Anna pleads, grabbing her captor's hands.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Anastasia sneers, dropping to her knees and producing a scrap of cloth from her pocket. The slightest whiff of Elsa's scent from the dress sends Anna into a frenzy; she lurches forward and inhales deeply at the fabric until Anastasia yanks it from her face.

"She's a drug isn't she?" Anastasia says, "So potent, so intoxicating, so…_addictive._"

The sight of Anastasia keeping the scrap jogs her memory back to where she last saw the beige dress. The realisation slams into Anna's head and she screams out Elsa's name faster than she can comprehend why she's screaming it.

"You can't! You can't! What did you do to her? How did you find out?" Anastasia gasps, lurching towards her and getting pulled back by a pair of men. Their efforts fail at keeping Anna from dragging her nails along Anastasia's arms, and before long half dozen other soldiers pin her down on the grass.

"Rest assured your sister's safe," Anastasia scowls, shifting her face close to Anna's, "but if you want to keep your dirty little secret safe – you're going to want to listen to my…_proposition._"

Anna squirms beneath the weight of the men as she drags her shackles into the ground and heaves. A soldier jams his elbow into her neck, sending her face into the soil.

"_I want her__,_" Anastasia drawls into Anna's ear.

"_Whore!_" Anna spits, "you're that whore who kissed Elsa weren't you?"

A crack punctuates the sound of heavy breathing in the air; pain blossoms across Anna's cheek as Anastasia slaps her across the face.

"_Anastasia!_" a soldier exclaims, pointing at a map and uttering a sentence in Russian.

"Fuck," Anastasia scowls, marching over and exchanging a series of angry words with him. As the stars fade from Anna's vision, she sees them gesticulating wildly at each other and the map, and the soldiers' expressions change from determined to grim. In between the furious Russian syllables, she hears the word _Weselton_, and Anastasia loads a bolt into her crossbow.

"What the hell is going on?" Anna scowls at the soldiers holding her down.

"готовиться к битве!" Anastasia yells, and at once, the weight on Anna's shoulders lifts as they draw swords and form a circle around her, concealing her beneath their shadows. A zing punctuates the silence and Anna spots the silhouette of an arrow embedded in a shield.

"осталось!" a soldier yells, before he's cut off by an arrow to the face. Two more soldiers take arrows to the knee and crumble under the pain, before the roar of voices and neighing of horses erupts from the trail's edge. The crude cavalry charge slams into Anastasia's circle and Anna finds herself scrambling beneath hooves and boots as the soldiers brawl in the darkness. A pair of hands grab her by the shoulders and pulls her from beneath the scrum into the moonlight, she squints at the eagle's crest on his uniform and squirms within his grasp.

"_Fuck off!_" she grunts, slamming her shackles into his head and throwing him off balance. The sheer weight of metal attached to her wrists sends her tumbling beneath the momentum, and she rolls to a halt before Anastasia's feet.

"Get out of here!" Anastasia yells, hurling her last knife at a rider. She grabs Anna by the neck and drags her behind the carriage's flaming wreck as horns blare in the distance.

"Bitch, I can fight!" Anna hisses, raising her shackles to Anastasia and beckoning her to take them off.

Without a word, Anastasia marches off to resume fighting the Weselton troops.

"_Fuck_," Anna mutters, snapping her head to the sight of Russians getting massacred by the stream of Weselton reinforcements pouring from the adjacent forest. She gasps at the shadowy figure of a rider bearing down on her. Rising to her feet, the instinct to flee deserts her until the last moment when she rolls away and pulls the rider off the horse by his boots. Anna's shackles catch in the horse's stirrups and it drags her along the blood-soaked mud for yards until she manages to pulls herself onto the saddle.

"Oh god, not that way!" Anna shrieks as the beast gallops headlong _towards_ the Weselton soldiers. Beneath the glare of torches, ranks of pikes rise to meet her. The point of the first spear slices across her ear, sending Anna buckling against the horse, shuddering from the panic befalling her trembling body. Despite her sweat-fogged vision, Anna makes out the next spear thrusting towards her, and musters the little strength left in her arms to raise her shackles. The tip catches between her chains and she yanks hard, snapping the spear but leaving her bonds intact.

A passing rider clubs her hard in the forehead with the shaft of his spear and Anna falls over backwards from her horse, slamming into the ground with a clank. She leaps to her feet and jams her shoulder into the first soldier she sees, sending him flying backwards into another three men. With the surrendered Russian troops already tied up beside the Southern Isles men, the two groups of prisoners stare with open jaws at the sight of one feisty red-haired princess with bound wrists fighting off an entire platoon of men with nothing but the shackles on her wrists and the tenacity of her will.

One by one, the Weselton soldiers back off from fighting Anna, leaving her swinging wildly at the air with her fists. Heaving and spent, Anna crumbles to her knees and begins to sob into her hands. A lead rider approaches and points at her with his spear.

"She is of no use to us, we need Elsa," he orders, the thick Germanic accent muffled beneath his bushy moustache, "_kill her!_"

Blood streams down the open wound in Anna's forehead. In her hands, the smell from a mixture of tears, sweat and blood sends her head spinning into the abyss.

"_Elsa,_" Anna whispers, forcing herself to her feet just as a mace strikes her across the head. Without anticipating the blow, the pain feels electric to her; searing hot and almost _cool _to the touch at the same time. The thought of cold brings a smile to her lips, and a soldier stands over her with a spear poised to strike her neck. Anna licks the blood from her lips; the taste of her own pain a bittersweet reminder of all she's done for Elsa.

Before Anna's eyes flutter shut - a single, perfect snowflake drifts down from the sky, and she sticks out her tongue to catch it.


End file.
